"Not always," answered Miss Beaumont. As she spoke she inserted "witless fellow" as an alternative to "silly ass."
"I always thought they lived in the sky."
"Oh, no, Mrs. Worters," the girl repeated. "Not always." And finding her place in the note-book she read as follows: "Gods. Where. Chief deities—Mount Olympus. Pan—most places, as name implies. Oreads—mountains. Sirens, Tritons, Nereids—water (salt). Naiads—water (fresh). Satyrs, Fauns, etc.—woods. Dryads—trees."
"Well, dear, you have learnt a lot. And will you now tell me what good it has done you?"
"It has helped me—" faltered Miss Beaumont. She was very earnest over her classics. She wished she could have said what good they had done her.
Ford came to her rescue, "Of course it's helped you. The classics are full of tips. They teach you how to dodge things."
I begged my young friend not to dodge his Virgil lesson.
"But they do!" he cried. "Suppose that long-haired brute Apollo wants to give you a music lesson. Well, out you pop into the laurels. Or Universal Nature comes along. You aren't
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