Part 62 (2/2)

”You say you have had no teacher but your sister since Miss Phelps, or Phipps, or whatever her name was, left. And how old is your sister, may I ask?”

”Jessie is eighteen,” answered Edith. ”And she is very clever--every one says so, especially at music.”

”Why didn't she teach you, then, and make you practise regularly? You tell me you have had no regular practice, and cannot play more than two or three pieces.”

”It is not Jessie's fault,” said Edith, colouring up. ”Papa and mamma liked us all to learn, but I am afraid, aunt, I have no natural talent for music. I get on better with some other things.”

Aunt Rachel opened a French book that lay on the table.

”Read that,” she said shortly, pointing to the open page.

Edith was at home here; her p.r.o.nunciation was rather original, it is true, but she read with ease and fluency, and translated the page afterwards without any awkward pauses.

”That is better,” said her aunt, more graciously. ”You shall have some lessons. As for the music, I don't believe in making girls, who can't tell the National Anthem from the Old Hundredth, strum on the piano whether they like it or not. You may learn drawing instead. And then I shall expect you to read with me--good solid authors, you know, not poetry and romances, which are all the girls of the present day seem to care for.”

”Thank you, aunt,” said Edith. ”I should like to learn drawing very much.”

”Wait a while,” continued Miss Harley. ”Perhaps you won't thank me when you have heard all. I shall insist upon your learning plain needlework in all its branches, and getting a thorough insight into cookery and housekeeping. With your mother's delicate health there ought to be at least one of the daughters able to take her place whenever it is needful. Your sisters don't know much about the house, I daresay.”

”Maude does,” answered Edith, proud of her sister's ability. ”Maude can keep house well--even papa says so.”

”And Jessie?”

”Jessie says her tastes are not domestic, and she has always had enough to do teaching us, and looking after the little ones.”

”And what did you do?” demanded Aunt Rachel. ”You can't play; you can't sew. By your own confession, you don't know the least thing about household matters. It couldn't have taken you all your time to learn a little French and read a few books. What _did_ you do?”

Edith blushed again.

”I--I went out, Aunt Rachel,” she said at last.

”Went out, child?”

”Yes. Winchcomb is a beautiful country place, you know, and Alfred and Claude and I were nearly always out when it was fine. We did learn something, even in that way, about the flowers and plants and birds and live creatures. Papa always said plenty of fresh air would make us strong and healthy, and, indeed, we _are_ well. As for me, I have never been ill that I remember since I was quite a little thing.”

[Sidenote: We will Change all that!]

”My patience, child! And did Maria--did your mother allow you to run about with two boys from morning till night?”

”It is such a quiet place, aunt, no one thought it strange. We knew all the people, and they were always glad to see us--nearly always,” added truthful Edith, with a sudden remembrance of Mr. Smith's anger when he found his cow in the potato field, and one or two other little matters of a like nature.

”Well, I can only say that you have been most strangely brought up. But we will change all that. You will now find every day full of regular employments, and when I cannot walk out with you I shall send Stimson.

You must not expect to run wild any more, but give yourself to the improvement of your mind, and to fitting yourself for the duties of life. Now I have letters to write, and you may leave me till I send for you again. For this one day you will have to be idle, I suppose.”

Edith escaped into the garden, thankful that the interview was over, and that, for the time at least, she was free.

The very next day she was introduced to Monsieur Delorme, who undertook to come from Silchester three times a week to give her lessons in French, and to Mr. Sumner, who was to do the same on the three alternate days, for drawing. It seemed a terrible thing to Edith at first to have to learn from strangers; but Monsieur Delorme was a charming old gentleman, with all the politeness of his nation; and, as Edith proved a very apt pupil, they soon got on together beautifully.

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