“My dear friend,” interrupted she, “Arbell is constantly under my eye already. Do you imagine I shut myself up from my children? No, no! that would indeed be neglecting a mother’s first duty. Dry recapitulation of lessons, indeed, and endless practising, fall exclusively to the superintendence of the governess; but Arbell always learns her lessons and writes her exercises in the room with me, for hours every morning.”
“I am heartily glad to hear it,” said I, with a sense of relief.
“We lunch together—that is, they have their early dinner when we lunch,” pursued Mrs. Pevensey; “always except when we have friends. And though my afternoons are generally engaged in drives, and the children of course do not appear at the late dinner, they may always do so at dessert, and the younger ones always do. In the evenings, it is very much at Arbell’s option, or, at least, at Mademoiselle’s, whether they appear or not. Sometimes Arbell has lessons to prepare; sometimes she is engaged in her own devices; and really, I think they are more healthful and suitable for a young girl than large mixed parties, when silly people too often say silly things to children, so that frequently I am not sorry to miss her from the drawing-room. And now, good-by! I have paid an unconscionable visit; but there is no getting away from you. I am so glad you are—I think you are better?”
“Thank you, yes. Then I shall see Arbell the day after to-morrow?”
“Undoubtedly, if she will come. At what hour? They dine at two.”
“Shall I say eleven?”
“Yes, do; and I will send for her at half-past one, because it is nearly half-an-hour’s walk. Good-by, good-by! I must make peace as I can with Mademoiselle.”
And she left me with an engaging smile.