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 motionless on the bench. The book by now was lying on the ground.

Soon afterwards Mr. Maelinger entered the garden and neared the house, but Cornelli intercepted him.

“I could not come at 9 o’clock to-day,” he said, “but I think one hour is better than none, so am here now, at 11 o’clock. I hope you have spent a pleasant, useful morning.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Cornelli drily.

“But you have a fine book in your hand. It is sure to have something nice in it. What is it all about?”

“I do not know,” replied Cornelli.

“Let us go to our work now. Your reading does not seem to have impresed you much, so let us hope for a better result from our lesson.”

The teacher entered the house with his pupil, and they were just getting settled in their accustomed places when he said: “It seems to me, Cornelli, that your hair hangs a little too much over your face. It must be very uncomfortable. Could not this be changed?”

“No, I can never change that, never,