Ran and Judy had planned to go to London in the spring, to live in retirement and to pursue their studies under private tutors. But as the season opened in all its beauty they became so enchanted with their delightful country home that they could not bear the thought of leaving it.
“Couldn’t we have a resident tutor?” inquired Ran with some hesitation as he and Judy were discussing the question one morning, seated on a rustic bench under an old oak tree in their lovely lawn.
“‘A resident tutor?’” repeated Judy dubiously.
“Yes, such as the gentry have for their children.”
“For their children,’ of course, but not for grown people; not for themselves. No, Ran, dear, we could not have a resident tutor for you and me. That would set the servants to talking and the neighbors to gossiping; and they would wonder where we had been brought up, perhaps laugh at us, perhaps scorn us. I should not mind it for myself, Ran, but I should mind it a great deal for you.”
“That is not the way I feel, Judy, dear, for I do not care a fig what they say of me, but I could not bear to have them criticise you.”
“So, you see, Ran, we could not have a resident tutor.”
“I suppose we shall have to go and hide ourselves in London to pursue our studies, Judy, dear.”
“Yes,” said the young woman with a deep sigh, “but mightn’t we put off going until winter? Oh, it is so hard to leave this lovely place in the glory of the spring.”
“Judy, love, time is passing quickly, and our education is very backward.”