‘You could have passed them,’ remarked one of his sisters, ‘easily enough.’
‘In Miss. Morgan’s presence,’—he stroked his chin, and smiled with delicious fatuity—‘I prefer to say nothing on that point.’
‘Oh but of course you could, Mr. Barmby,’ sounded Jessica’s voice, in an unsteady falsetto, whilst her eyes were turned upon the floor. ‘You would have thought nothing of this matriculation, which seems to me so dreadful.’
Profoundly flattered, Samuel addressed the girl in his suavest tones.
‘I have a theory, Miss. Morgan, that young ladies ought not to undergo these ordeals. The delicacy of their nervous system unfits them for such a strain. I’m sure we shall all feel very glad when you are successfully through the trial. After it, you ought to have a long rest.’
‘Oh, you ought—indeed you ought,’ assented the girls.
‘By the bye,’ said Samuel, ‘my father has heard from Miss. Lord that she is going away for a month or two. She says her health requires it.’
Jessica sat silent, still with downcast eyes.
‘But it’s a new thing, isn’t it,’ remarked Amelia, ‘for Miss. Lord to be in bad health?’
‘She has suffered a good deal, I’m afraid,’ said Jessica, ‘since her father’s death. The doctor tells her she oughtn’t to live in that dull house through the winter.’