“How do you like school?” she said. Her tones were abrupt; the eyes she fixed on the child were hard.
Evelyn’s worst feelings were always awakened by Lady Frances’s manner to her.
“I do not like it at all,” she said. “I wish to leave.”
“Your wishes, I am afraid, are not to be considered; all the same, you may have to leave.”
“Why?” asked Evelyn, turning white. She wondered if Lady Frances knew.
Her aunt’s eyes were fixed, as though they were gimlets, on her face.
“Sit down,” said Lady Frances, “and tell me how you spend your day. What class are you in? What lessons are you learning?”
“I am in a very low class indeed?” said Evelyn. “Mothery always said I was clever.”
“I do not suppose your mother knew.”
“Why should she not know, she who was so very clever herself? She taught me all sorts of things, and so did poor Jasper.”