“Shall I call Sophia too?” asked Hester, as she took up her work-bag. “I dare say she never read any of Spenser.”
“I dare say not,” replied Margaret; “and she would not care about it now. If you think we ought, we will call her. If not—”
Hester smiled, nodded, and led the way to the schoolroom without calling Sophia. She had not been two minutes in the cordial presence of her sister and Maria, before she felt the full absurdity of the feelings which had occupied her so lately, and was angry with herself to her own satisfaction. Her companions looked at each other with a smile as they observed at the same moment the downcast attitude of her moistened eyes, the beautiful blush on her cheek, and the expression of meek emotion on her lips. They thought that it was the image of heavenly beauty which moved her thus.
Before they had quite finished the Hymn, the door was burst open, and the children entered, dragging in Mr Enderby. Mr Enderby rebuked them, good-naturedly, for introducing him with so little ceremony, and declared to the ladies that Matilda had promised to knock before she opened the door. Hester advised Mary and Fanny to be more quiet in their mode of entrance, observing that they had made Miss Young start with their hurry.
Matilda was glad her uncle remembered to come sometimes. He had promised it several weeks before he came at all; even when he said he was going away in a fortnight.
“And if I had gone away in a fortnight,” said he, “I should not have seen your schoolroom. But this is not the first time I have seen it, as you remember very well. I have been here often lately.”
“But you never attend to me here, uncle! And I want so to show you my desk, where I keep my copy-book, and the work-box you gave me on my birthday.”
“Well, you can show me now, cannot you? So, this is your desk! It seems convenient enough, whatever we may think of its beauty. I suppose it will hold all the knowledge you will want to have put into your head for some time to come. Now show me which is George’s desk, and which Fanny’s; and now Mary’s,—a nice row of desks! Now,” whispering to her, “can you show me which is Miss Margaret’s desk?”
The little girl giggled as she answered, that Miss Margaret was too old to be a school-girl.
“So she is: but she learns of Miss Young, and I know she keeps some of her books here. Can you show me where?”