to-morrow, Miss Quarich will receive—can you guess what?"
"Of course I can't!" said Valeska. "What?"
He dropped his chin into his fist. "Well, she will receive a present of an inkstand; probably of cut glass."
"Really?" Valeska stared at him in amazement.
"Yes, unless he sends another book, which I think unlikely."
"He? Who?"
"Do you mean to say you don't know?"
"How can I? Why how can you, either? You haven't even examined the presents. There's that volume of Montaigne's Essays. It would be like Mr. Gerrish to send that; but more like Mr. Thompson to send the gloves. I'm all at sea."
Astro patted her familiarly on the shoulder. "After all my lessons?" he complained humorously. "Never mind, think it over. And look over that list again tomorrow, when you're rested."
The next day, however, brought no hint to Valeska, who, in the intervals of her work, examined the articles one by one, and pored over the list of presents. On Saturday, Miss Quarich rang up the studio. Valeska, in high excitement, listened, and then stared at Astro with a baffled expression.
"Miss Quarich received this morning a parcel containing a cut-glass ink-well!"
Astro laughed silently, and nodded.
For some time Valeska stood gazing at him with a blank look on her face. Then, without a word she
