the thoughtless multitude. The first wave of a grand tide, bringing its treasures to endure through all time."
She is interrupted by a voice through the telephone telling that the desired alcove awaits occupancy.
They rise. Frederick takes his mother's hand, and says some words I cannot interpret.
Veritée, half reflectively, as if looking into the perplexing past:
"I always think our Founder must have been a bravely truthful man to have so risked the hurt and ridicule of ignorance, which appears to have been malignant all through the world's history."
They walk through an opening leading to a passage formed by the backs of the cases and wall of gallery.
Stopping suddenly, the elder lady says:
"You did not notice the figures in the case fronting our alcove; but," walking on again, "it matters not now. I particularly wish to descend the Ages in their own order. The alcove I intended to commence in, this morning, was engaged."
"Yes," says Frederick, in an uninterested tone, "I saw them. Some sort of monkey."
"Monkeys, my dear! You are thinking of some other case. They are ancient Britons—very ancient—and modelled after well-executed drawings."
"Indeed mother, I looked well at them. Naked, hairy vicious animals, standing upon their hind legs. Please return, the alcove is not yet occupied."
"There," says he as they arrive before the case, "are they not apes?"
With a half serious, and somewhat of droll, expression in her eyes, she replies gently: