"Doesn't he look learned? Oh, Julia, I should think that you would be frightened to death," said Edith. But Julia smiled.
"I wish myself that Greek were just a little easier. I've got to the verbs and it seems to me I never shall know them."
"I don't wonder," responded Edith. "I don't see how you ever learn it,—all those queer letters and marks and things. Well, I should feel just as though I were standing on my head if I tried to study Greek."
Edith had no vanity about herself, at least in the matter of lessons. Her special talent was for drawing and mathematics but although she was conscientious about her school work, she rarely distinguished herself in her recitations. Like Nora, she had begun to have a great admiration for Julia. The latter shook her head when Edith spoke of the difficulty she had in learning Greek.
"It's like everything else," she said, "you can learn it if you make up your mind to try hard enough."
"I wish that had been the way with my German, for I really did try. Papa is disappointed, because he wanted me to speak by the time we go to Europe again."
"Then why don't you persevere? It would please him and it would do you good. If I were you I would take it up now."
"Well, perhaps I will after Christmas. Miss Crawdon won't let us make any changes until then."
As Edith watched Julia's diligence and perseverance she really became ashamed of her own rather indolent way of treating her lessons.
When Nora or Brenda came for her to go to walk early on some bright October afternoon she was very apt to say, "Oh, I cannot go now, I must finish studying."