But it must not be supposed that her parents were ever otherwise than of one mind concerning her. Like all well-constituted husbands, Mr. Jex-Blake was quite prepared on occasion to demolish the child who made his wife uncomfortable. And it must be confessed that little Sophy had rather a knack of making people “uncomfortable.” She was so keen about everything: she staked her equanimity so often on things which it might have been wiser to regard as trifles, that those about her learned to live in a state of some anxiety, never knowing when the eruption might come.
The remedy for it all is painfully obvious as we read. More scope, more physical exercise, more fresh air; but, as already pointed out, the girls’ schools of those days provided none of these things; and, when the child came to her dearly loved home, the Mother’s excessive fragility made it necessary that her daughter should live the life of a grown up person.[[6]] The most devoted mutual love could not devise a régime suited to both. The lovely ailing Mother could not stand noise and excitement. Sophy was often riotous, excitable, “rough” yet always very loving with it all. On one occasion when walking demurely along the pavement in a queue of well-behaved girls, she caught sight of her father, and, without a moment’s hesitation, deserted the ranks, and took a flying leap on to his back!
No wonder that a contemporary friend of the family describes him as saying very often, “My dear Sophy! My dear child!” in tones of absolute bewilderment.
In the summer of 1850 Sophy made the tour referred to in the preceding chapter, and a liberal education it must have been. In April Mrs. Jex-Blake had written,
“I hardly allow myself to look forward to the treat of going to Scotland; it seems almost too much pleasure,—and we shall be sure to find people who love Jesus and love the Bible there and that will add so very greatly to our pleasure.... Papa thanks you for your letter, he is surprised and pleased to learn that you are in Reduction.... Use daily as a prayer the substance of 1 Peter v. 5.”
“18th June. Left Belmont at 20 minutes to 10 with Miss Teed, and met Papa and Mama at the Euston, and went to Rugby to pick up Brother.” So Sophy’s own diary begins, and an excellent conscientious piece of work it is. They visited Leamington, Warwick, Kenilworth: thence to Edinburgh, Stirling, Glasgow and the Lochs, Callander and the Trossachs, stopping at York on the way south.
A pretty piece of doggerel shows the happy relations between Father and daughter at this period. It is scribbled in pencil on the back of a hotel-keeper’s note. The Father begins in his scholarly handwriting:
“My little child, You’re very wild,
Could you be still, And yet not ill,
Then, little So, This I do know,