‘Please,’ she said, clasping her hands tightly together, ‘I want to go to school, a real girls’ school, where there are crowds of girls, and crowds of lessons, and crowds of story-books with nice endings, and crowds of awfully jolly games that don’t pull your hair about and don’t give you bruises. May I–may I have all that?’
Auntie Anna once more struck her cane upon the ground. ‘That shows how much you know about your own daughter, Everard!’ she said, which was a remark that Barbara never understood. ‘You may have all that, little goddaughter, every bit of it!’ she announced to the expectant child; ‘and what is more, you shall have it in a week’s time. Hey-day! Where are you off to in such a hurry, if you please, and why am I allowed a kiss all at once, eh? It isn’t a birthday, is it?’
For Barbara had rushed impetuously to the door, and then scampered back to kiss the face with the hooked nose that peered out from beneath the steeple-hat. ‘Of course I kissed you,’ she cried, ‘because–because you’re such a brick, you see!’ She paused half-way in her second journey to the door, and looked back doubtfully at the old lady on the sofa. ‘May I ask you something else?’ she said.
‘Anything you please,’ answered Auntie Anna. ‘That’s what I’m here for; eh, Everard?’
‘Then–then–are you going to do anything for the boys too?’ stammered Barbara. ‘I–I don’t think it’s quite fair to keep all the niceness to myself, you see!’
‘That depends on what the boys want,’ replied the old lady, gravely. ‘Do you think you can give me any idea?’
Barbara puckered up her eyebrows, and counted off the names on her fingers. ‘First there’s Egbert,’ she began; ‘he wants to go to Oxford without having to get a scholarship first. Then there’s Wilfred; he wants to be a doctor, but Kit says there isn’t money enough and he’s got to get over it. Do you think you’ll be able to make Will into a doctor? And Peter wants lots of shooting; he says he doesn’t mind about anything else, only Kit says he isn’t old enough, and you won’t trust him with a gun. Kit hasn’t seen you yet, you see. Then there’s Kit––’
‘That’s enough for the present!’ cried Mrs. Crofton, who was leaning back, convulsed with laughter, among the sofa cushions. Mr. Berkeley again drew his daughter towards him.
‘You are revealing all the secrets of the prison-house, little girl,’ he remarked.
Barbara looked from one to the other. ‘Auntie Anna did ask me,’ she said reproachfully.