“See what little Meta will do for you! Yes, we had the porch deep for a shelter—that is copied from the west door of the minster, and is it not a fine high-pitched roof? John Taylor, who is to be clerk, could not understand its being open; he said, when he saw the timbers, that a man and his family might live up among them. They are noble oak beams; we would not have any sham—here, Aubrey, take off the roof, and auntie will see the shape.”
“Like the ribs of a ship,” explained Aubrey, unconscious that the meaning was deeper than his sister could express, and he continued: “Such fine oak beams! I rode with Dr. Spencer one day last year to choose them. It is a two-aisled church, you see, that a third may be added.”
Ethel came up as Aubrey began to absorb the conversation. “Lessons, Aubrey,” she said. “So, Margaret, you are over your dear model?”
“Not forestalling you too much I hope, Ethel dear,” said Margaret; “as you will show her the church itself.”
“You have the best right,” said Ethel; “but come, Aubrey, we must not dawdle.”
“I will show you the stones I laid myself, Aunt Flora,” said Aubrey, running off without much reluctance.
“Ethel has him in excellent order,” said Mrs. Arnott.
“That she has; she brings him on beautifully, and makes him enjoy it. She teaches him arithmetic in some wonderful scientific way that nobody can understand but Norman, and he not the details; but he says it is all coming right, and will make him a capital mathematical scholar, though he cannot add up pounds, shillings, and pence.”
“I expected to be struck with Ethel,” said Mrs. Arnott; “and—”
“Well,” said Margaret, waiting.