"Why fear?"
"Because she will be very hard to place safely."
"My own impression is," Curly said slowly, "that she will need no placing at all, she will arrange matters for herself."
"You mean she will marry while quite young."
"Not at all. I should say she is quite unlikely to marry very young, but she will find a niche for herself, and she won't follow any beaten track either."
"When she came first of all," said Mr. Wycherly, "it was understood that she was to be trained for a servant; the doctor vetoed that—said she would never be strong enough. Then a charming lady here suggested having her trained as some very superior sort of nurse—children's nurse, but I question whether her genius lies in that direction. Personally, I can think of nothing very suitable for Jane-Anne except to delight me and get strong; but of course one must be practical. She is extraordinarily receptive. She takes pleasure in every kind of beauty, and she is quite singularly susceptible to beautiful verse. You should hear her recite Byron's 'Isles of Greece.'"
"Why shouldn't I hear her? Get her in and ask her to do it, then, perhaps, I can throw some light on this dark question."
"I can't say that I think she would be shy," Mr. Wycherly said dubiously, "for shyness and Jane-Anne seem quite foreign to one another; but—whether it would be good for her——"
"I'd like to hear her awfully," said Curly persuasively. "A housekeeper's niece, not thirteen, and steeped in Byron sounds such a delightful anachronism. Moreover, a little girl brought up by you. Please let me."
There was something very wheedling about Curly as he rose and went to the bell.