Mary. Now, you know, the children will be getting quite wild: we must really get pencils and paper, and begin properly.
L. Wait a minute, Miss Mary; I think as we've the school room clear to-day, I'll try to give you some notion of the three great orders or ranks of crystals, into which all the others seem more or less to fall. We shall only want one figure a day, in the playground; and that can be drawn in a minute: but the general ideas had better be fastened first. I must show you a great many minerals; so let me have three tables wheeled into the three windows, that we may keep our specimens separate;—we will keep the three orders of crystals on separate tables.
(First Interlude, of pushing and pulling, and spreading of baize covers. Violet, not particularly minding what she is about, gets herself jammed into a corner, and bid to stand out of the way; on which she devotes herself to meditation.)
Violet (after interval of meditation). How strange it is that everything seems to divide into threes!
L. Everything doesn't divide into threes. Ivy won't, though shamrock will; and daisies won't, though lilies will.
Violet. But all the nicest things seem to divide into threes.
L. Violets won't.
Violet. No; I should think not, indeed! But I mean the great things.
L. I've always heard the globe had four quarters.