"Do not malign genius, lest the gods strike you dumb.

Child--" What Mrs.Octagon was about to say further must remain ever a mystery, for it was at this moment that her husband hurried into the room with an evening paper in his hand.

"My dear," he said, his scanty hair almost standing on end with horror, "such dreadful news.

Your aunt, Juliet, my dear--" "Selina," said Mrs.Octagon quietly, "go on.

There is nothing bad I don't expect to hear about Selina.