“If you are sure it is not lessons,” said Briar.
“It is not lessons in the ordinary acception of the word. Now listen. This garden to which I went led down to the Thames. It was the property of a very great friend of mine, and she had invited what I might call a select company. Now will you all listen, and I will tell you how things were done?”
Miss Tredgold then proceeded to tell her story. No one could tell a story better. She made her narrative quite absorbing. For these girls, who had never known anything of life, she drew so vivid and fascinating a picture that they almost wished to be present at such a scene as she described. She spoke of the girls of the London world in their pretty dresses, and the matrons in their richer garments; of the men who moved about with polite deference. She spoke of the summer air, the beautiful appearance of the river, the charming punts and boats which disported themselves on the bosom of the waters.
“It must have been pretty; but rather stiff, wasn’t it?” said Verena.
“To you, my dear, it would have been stiff, for you are not yet accustomed to self-restraint, but to those who belong to that world it was nothing short of enchantment.”
“But you were in fetters,” said Pauline; “and I should hate fetters however jolly they looked.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, you know you are putting them on us.”
“Hush, Paulie!” said Verena.
“You are, Aunt Sophy; and you can’t be angry with me if I speak. I can’t imagine any one getting accustomed to fetters; it is quite beyond me.”