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 pig—had little detail or feature to mark its species. The legs were turned in upon the body in an embryonic manner; only the snout and close-curled tail were truly porcine.

Lucy entered with her breakfast tray, and if she were surprised to see a beautiful great lady—perhaps a disguised countess—holding so humble an object she did not show it.

'Will you have your tea, here, m'lady, or in your chamber or down in the drawing-room? And I am to tell you that when you have had your tea, why, there's a gentleman to see you—waiting in the lower hall. A Mr. Ripley he says he is.'

The red pig slipped from the lady's arms. The broken crockery and liquid contents splashed upon the floor. Lanice looked down in amazement to see the leering smile of the snout rolling some six feet away from the curled tail. The tepid water had splashed everything—leaving dark welts upon the lady's elegant gown and soaking the cotton stockings of the maid.

'I'll go down.' Without waiting to dry her flounces or to sleek the hair she had disordered against Anthony's pillow, she fled below to Professor Ripley. The maid, still carrying the tea and the thin bread-and-butter, ran after her like a comic figure in a play.

Lanice had not stopped to think either what she should say nor what the temper of this meeting should