Grandpapa pointed the moral no further but Lydia had unconsciously added another paragraph to the Book of Rules which was to guide her throughout the mysterious game that was just beginning for her: “There’s no such thing as can’t.”
She heard nothing more for the next few days of her ambitious request to be sent to school, and was far too cautious to risk a peremptory refusal through importunity.
It was a week later that she became uncomfortably aware of an indefinable alteration in her aunt’s manner towards her.
“Is anything the matter, auntie?” she gently ventured.
“Why should anything be the matter, dear?” said Aunt Beryl, her lips very close together and her gaze not meeting Lydia’s.
The child’s heart sank.
Quite obviously Aunt Beryl was offended, and meant to adopt the trying policy of ignoring any cause for offence. Twice she was too tired to come upstairs and say good night to Lydia, although this had never happened before, and several times when Lydia made little obvious comments, of the sort that always constituted conversation between them on their walks, Aunt Beryl appeared to be too much absorbed in thought to have heard her.
“I would much rather be scolded,” reflected Lydia dismally.
She was not scolded, but Aunt Beryl’s sense of grievance presently passed into a more articulate stage.
“Oh, don’t ask me, dear. I’m nobody. I don’t know anything,” she suddenly exclaimed with extreme bitterness, on a request for advice in respect of Lydia’s knitting.