She did not explain that it had interested her in the writer; but, after that day, Marigold understood that her Aunt Mary bore no ill-will to her mother, whatever Aunt Pamela might feel.
Easter fell about the middle of April that year. It had been decided that at the commencement of the summer term, in the first week of May, Marigold was to attend a day-school not far distant from Powderham Crescent.
"I hope you will be a good girl, and work hard to get on," Miss Pamela told her. "We wish you to have a good education to fit you for your position in life."
"I will try my hardest to learn all I can," Marigold responded earnestly.
"You will doubtless make friends at school," Miss Pamela continued, "and I hope you will have the good sense to choose them for more lasting qualities than those that usually attract youthful minds. You are unaccustomed to the companionship of other girls, and I warn you not to form rash opinions about your schoolfellows, but to select your friends with caution."
"I will remember what you say, Aunt Pamela," the little girl said, feeling somewhat puzzled. "Is it a large school where I am going?"
"There are between thirty and forty pupils, I believe. The principal, Miss Hardcastle, is a remarkably clever woman, and she is assisted by a staff of well-trained governesses, with visiting masters for music, and the higher branches of mathematics. Girls are expected to study subjects nowadays which were considered unnecessary when I was young; so you will have to work hard, if you mean to become a clever woman!"
To become a clever woman so that she should be able to earn her own living and assist her mother, was Marigold's one ambition, and she made up her mind to exert herself as much as possible, and do her very best.
Marigold had already been to the afternoon service at the cathedral with one or the other of her aunts on several occasions, but she had never once caught sight of Farmer Jo, although she had always looked about, in hopes of seeing him.
At last, one Friday afternoon as she was leaving the cathedral with Miss Holcroft, she saw a large tweed-clad figure in front, in company with a little old lady clad in an old-fashioned brown silk gown. Acting on the impulse of the moment, and much to her aunt's surprise, she darted on ahead and caught up to them.