‘Oh, oh! No wonder Fly got ill!’
‘Fly didn’t mind one bit. French and German come as naturally to her as the days of the week, and they really begin to come to me in the morning now when I see Miss Elbury.’
‘But have you to go on all day?’ asked Valetta disconsolately.
‘Oh no! Not after one o’clock.’
‘And you didn’t say that mamma thinks it only leads to slovenly bad grammar!’ said Gillian.
‘That would have been impertinent,’ said Mysie; ‘and no one would have minded either.’
‘Did you never play?’
‘We might play after our walk—and after tea; but it had to be quiet play, not real good games, even before Fly was ill—at least we did have some real games when Primrose came over, or when Cousin Rotherwood had us down in his study or in the hall; but Fly got tired, and knocked up very soon even then. Miss Elbury wanted us always to play battledore and shuttlecock, or Les Graces, if we couldn’t go out.’
‘Horrid woman!’ said Valetta.
‘No, she isn’t horrid,’ said Mysie stoutly; ‘I only fancied her so when she used to say, “Vos coudes, mademoiselle,” or “Redresses-vous,” and when she would not let us whisper; but really and truly she was very, very kind, and I came to like her very much and see she was not cross—only thought it right.’