“Pretentious and shallow!  A tissue of pedantry and error from beginning to end—­written, I will wager my head, by some scribbler who never saw Athens!  Moreover, the whole article is based upon a glaring blunder; for, according to Plutarch and Diodorus, on the memorable night in question there was a new moon.  Pshaw! it is a tasteless, insipid plagiarism from Grote; and if I am to be bored with such insufferable twaddle, I will stop my subscription.  For some time I have noticed symptoms of deterioration, but this is altogether intolerable; and I shall write to Manning that, if he cannot do better, it would be advisable for him to suspend at once before his magazine loses its reputation.  If I were not aware that his low estimate of female intellect coincides fully with my own, I should be tempted to suppose that some silly but ambitious woman wrote that stuff, which sounds learned and is simply stupid.”

He did not even glance toward Edna, but the peculiar emphasis of his words left no doubt in her mind that he suspected, nay, felt assured, that she was the luckless author.  Raising her head which had been drooped over the woolen skeins, she said, firmly, yet very quietly: 

“If you will permit me to differ with you, Mr. Murray, I will say that it seems to me all the testimony is in favor of the full-moon theory.  Beside, Grote is the latest and best authority; he has carefully collected and sifted the evidence, and certainly sanctions the position taken by the author of the article which you condemn.”

“Ah! how long since you investigated the matter?  The affair is so essentially Paganish that I should imagine that it possessed no charm for so orthodox a Christian as yourself.  Estelle, what say you concerning this historic sphinx?”

“That I am blissfully ignorant of the whole question, and have a vague impression that it is not worth the paper it is written on, much less a quarrel with you, Monsieur ‘Le Hutin’; that it is the merest matter of moonshine—­new moon versus full moon, and must have been written by a lunatic.  But, my Chevalier Bayard, one thing I do intend to say most decidedly, and that is, that your lunge at female intellect was as unnecessary and ill-timed and ill-bred as it was ill-natured.  The mental equality of the sexes is now as unquestioned, as universally admitted, as any other well-established fact in science or history; and the sooner you men gracefully concede us our rights, the sooner we shall cease wrangling, and settle back into our traditional amiability.”

“The universality of the admission I should certainly deny, were the subject of sufficient importance to justify a discussion.  However, I have been absent so long from America, that I confess my ignorance of the last social advance in the striding enlightenment of this most progressive people.  According to Moleschott’s celebrated dictum—­’Without phosphorus no thought,’ and if there be any truth in physiology and phrenology, you women have been stinted by nature in the supply of phosphorus.  Peacock’s measurements prove that in the average weight of male and female brains, you fall below our standard by not less than six ounces.  I should conjecture that in the scales of equality six ounces of ideas would turn the balance in favor of our superiority.”