“The child is improved,” said Miss Tredgold to Verena. “She is quite obliging and unselfish.”
Verena said nothing.
“What do you think of my new plans, Verena?” said her aunt. “Out-of-door life until the frost comes is more or less at a standstill. Beyond the mere walking for health, we do not care to go out of doors in this wet and sloppy weather. But the house is large. I mean always to have one or two friends here, sometimes girls to please you other girls, sometimes older people to interest me. I should much like to have one or two savants down to talk over their special studies with your father; but that can doubtless be arranged by-and-by. I want us to have cheerful winter evenings—evenings for reading, evenings for music. I want you children to learn at least the rudiments of good acting, and I mean to have two or three plays enacted here during the winter. In short, if you will all help me, we can have a splendid time.”
“Oh, I will help you,” said Verena. “But,” she added, “I have no talent for acting; it is Paulie who can act so well.”
“I wish your sister would take an interest in things, Verena. She is quite well in body, but she is certainly not what she was before her accident.”
“I don’t understand Pauline,” said Verena, shaking her head.
“Nor do I understand her. Once or twice I thought I would get a good doctor to see her, but I have now nearly resolved to leave it to time to restore her.”
“But the other girls—can you understand the other girls, Aunt Sophy?” asked Verena.
“Understand them, my dear? What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t mean the younger ones—Adelaide and Lucy and the others. I mean Briar and Patty. They are not a bit what they were.”