‘Indeed?’
‘Well, I am sure any one would be vexed.’
‘Cannot you tell me what was the matter without being sure so often?’
‘I am sure—there, mamma, I beg your pardon—I am sure I did not mean to complain.’
‘Only, Sarah, neither your voice has such a ring, nor are you so sure, when nothing has gone wrong. What was it?’
‘It is that photography, mamma. Miss Sandbrook is so busy with it! I could not copy in my translation that I did yesterday, because she had not looked over it, and when she said she was coming presently, I am afraid I said it was always presently and never present. I believe I did say it crossly, and I am sorry I denied it,’ and poor Sarah’s voice was low and meek enough.
‘Coming? Where is she?’
‘In the dark chamber, doing a positive of the Cathedral.’
Mrs. Prendergast entered the schoolroom, outside which she had been holding this colloquy. The powerful sun of high summer was filling the room with barred light through the Venetian blinds, and revealing a rather confused mass of the appliances of study, interspersed with saucers of water in which were bathing paper photographs, and every shelf of books had a fringe of others on glass set up to dry. On the table lay a paper of hooks, a three-tailed artificial minnow, and another partly clothed with silver twist, a fly-book, and a quantity of feathers and silks.
‘I must tell Francis that the schoolroom is no place for his fishing-tackle!’ exclaimed Mrs. Prendergast.