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 unnerved him strangely, but his manner betrayed nothing of the kind.

"Yes, Elise," he said. "But I must say I don't like my mornings interrupted by any one but parents." "But you know I have no parents, sir."

She approached and leaned her hand on his desk; in whiteness it compared favorably with the gardenia, but, unlike the flower, it was shaking. He looked up quickly—yes, the little princess was trembling from top to toe. There was something appealing in her doing a deed that frightened her so much. He wanted to ask her to sit down, but, knowing that a more pedagogic tone could be given to the interview if she stood and he remained seated, he didn't. He merely said, quite coldly:

"What was it you wished to speak to me about?"

"I want to change one of the courses I have elected, please, Mr. Bevans."

He looked up at her again. Was he to hear a fifteenth incredibly plausible story about Sacred Literature, and from her whom he had thought superior!

Her hand trembled more and more, but she said, firmly: "I want to take an extra English course instead of Sacred Literature."