“It is this: poor Miss Sinclair—dear, nice Miss Sinclair—has been obliged to leave.”
“Oh, well, I am not sorry for that,” said Jasper. “I was getting a bit jealous of her. You seemed to be getting on so well with her.”
“So I was. I quite loved her; she made my lessons so interesting. But what do you think, Jasper? Although I am very sorry she has gone, I am glad about the other thing. Audrey and I are going to school, as daily boarders, just outside the village; Chepstow House it is called. We are going to-morrow morning. Mothery would like that; she always did want me to go to school. I am glad. Are you not glad too, Jasper?”
“That depends,” said Jasper in an oracular voice.
“What does it all depend on? Why do you speak in that funny way?”
“It depends on you, my dear. I have heard a great deal about schools. Some are nice and some are not. In some they give you a lot of freedom, and you are petted and fussed over; in others they discipline you. When you are disciplined you don’t like it. If I were you——”
“Yes—what?”
“I would stay there if I liked it, and if I did not I would not stay. I would not have my spirit broke. They often break your spirit at school. I would not put up with that if I were you.”
“I am sure they won’t break my spirit,” said Evelyn in a tone of alarm. “Why do you speak so dismally, Jasper? Do you know, I am almost sorry I told you. I was so happy at the thought of going, and now you have made me miserable. No, there is not the slightest fear that they will break my spirit.”
“Then that is all right, dear. Don’t forget that you are the heiress.”