The veil of Miss Moreton half shaded her face, as she reclined on a sofa, at the head of the long table, on which the breakfast was spread; bouquets of flowers were placed at every plate. Germ and Copy were already seated; the latter was holding a moss rose at a short distance from him, and whistling at it, as if in the act of portraying it on paper; while Germ, with green spectacles, was examining a leaf on which he had found the aurelia of a butterfly. Miss More-ton was studying, and did not, (or pretended not to) hear the entrance of Mary Cuthbert, or her morning compliments. Walwyn took his seat at her right hand, and, understanding its motion, immediately began to pour out the tea; when the Chevalier glided into the room, pressed the disengaged hand of Miss Moreton to his forehead, and to his heart, and, partly enveloping himself beneath her veil, leant over her shoulder to become a participator in her studies. Montgomery and Mary seated themselves; and Monsieur Myrtilla, skipping in, in the dress in which Mary had seen him the preceding morning, said, ‘One, too, tree million pardons vor de chere Belle Signora; she has not leave her toilette yet, so I just promise to make'A coffee vor two in her apart-ment. Bon jour, Mademoiselle Moreton;’ and away he ran.

‘Do you know this flower,’ asked Germ, addressing Walwyn. ‘Can you tell me what an egg is?’ said Walwyn, smiling, as he took one. ‘Certainly, certainly,’ answered Germ; ‘let me see this little book – No, hang it, this is my Essay on Crocodiles. I have, though, somewhere certainly’ – searching his left hand pocket. ‘No – wrong again, that is the History of the Horned Owl. Ah! here, here it comes at last; let me see – Eggs! page one hundred and sixty-three. Now, Sir, we have it.’ ‘I have had it, Sir,’ said Walwyn, crashing the empty shell in the ear of the philosopher.