Through all our troubles, I never but once heard my mother complain of our want of money. As summer was coming on she observed to Mary and me, “What a desirable thing it would be for your papa to spend a few weeks at a watering-place. I am convinced the sea-air and the change of scene would be of incalculable service to him. But then, you see, there’s no money,” she added, with a sigh. We both wished exceedingly that the thing might be done, and lamented greatly that it could not. “Well, well!” said she, “it’s no use complaining. Possibly something might be done to further the project after all. Mary, you are a beautiful drawer. What do you say to doing a few more pictures in your best style, and getting them framed, with the water-coloured drawings you have already done, and trying to dispose of them to some liberal picture-dealer, who has the sense to discern their merits?”
“Mamma, I should be delighted if you think they could be sold; and for anything worth while.”
“It’s worth while trying, however, my dear: do you procure the drawings, and I’ll endeavour to find a purchaser.”
“I wish I could do something,” said I.
“You, Agnes! well, who knows? You draw pretty well, too: if you choose some simple piece for your subject, I daresay you will be able to produce something we shall all be proud to exhibit.”
“But I have another scheme in my head, mamma, and have had long, only I did not like to mention it.”
“Indeed! pray tell us what it is.”
“I should like to be a governess.”
My mother uttered an exclamation of surprise, and laughed. My sister dropped her work in astonishment, exclaiming, “You a governess, Agnes! What can you be dreaming of?”
“Well! I don’t see anything so very extraordinary in it. I do not pretend to be able to instruct great girls; but surely I could teach little ones: and I should like it so much: I am so fond of children. Do let me, mamma!”