“Norman was sorry for Forder and Cheviot,” began Ethel. Flora tried to stop her, but Louisa Anderson caught at what she said, and looked eagerly for more. “He felt,” said she, only thinking of exalting her generous brother, “as if it was hardly right, when they are so much his seniors, that he could scarcely enjoy it.”
“Ah! that is just what people say,” replied Louisa. “But it must be very gratifying to you, and it makes him certain of the Randal scholarship too, I suppose. It is a great thing for him! He must have worked very hard.”
“Yes, that he has,” said Flora; “he is so fond of study, and that goes halfway.”
“So is dear Harvey. How earnest he is over his books! Mamma sometimes says, ‘Now Harvey, dear, you’ll be quite stupified, you’ll be ill; I really shall get Dr. May to forbid you.’ I suppose Norman is very busy too; it is quite the fashion for boys not to be idle now.”
“Poor Norman can’t help it,” said Ethel piteously. “Papa will not hear of his doing any Latin or Greek these whole holidays.”
“He thinks he will come to it better again for entire rest,” said Flora, launching another look at her sister, which again fell short.
A great deal of polite inquiry whether they were uneasy about him followed, mixed with a little boasting of dear Harvey’s diligence.
“By-the-bye, Ethel, it is you that are the great patroness of the wild Cocksmoor children—are not you?”
Ethel coloured, and mumbled, and Flora answered for her, “Richard and Ethel have been there once or twice. You know our under nursery-maid is a Cocksmoor girl.”
“Well, mamma said she could not think how Miss May could take one from thence. The whole place is full of thieves, and do you know, Bessie Boulder has lost her gold pencil-case.”