The rector bowed in a very courteous manner. “School-life may not be really necessary for them,” he said; “although you know my opinion—in short you know what I would do with them did they belong to me.”
Mrs. Cardew was silent for a minute or two. Then she continued the conversation by saying, “It is really a curious fact that Lady Lysle, my great friend, who was here this afternoon, spoke to me in terms of the warmest approbation with regard to Mrs. Ward and Aylmer House. She says that her own niece Aneta is a member of the school. She further said that there were two vacancies at present, and she urged me to send my girls there. But, alas I cannot do that, for their father would not hear of it.”
“I do wish he would hear of it,” said Mr. Tristram with some feeling. “You will never have your girls properly taught unless they go to school. It is impossible at this distance from London to command the services of the best masters and governesses. You will not have a resident governess in the house—forgive me if I speak freely, dear lady, but I love your children as though they were my own—and if you could persuade Mr. Cardew to seize this opportunity and let them go to school with Molly and Isabel I am certain you would never regret it.”
“I wish I could persuade him,” said Mrs. Cardew; “more particularly as that excellent music master, Mr. Bennett, has just written to say he must discontinue giving his music-lessons, as the distance from Warwick is too far for his health, and Miss Beverley, their daily governess, has also broken down. But there, I know my husband never will agree to part with the girls.”
“Then the next best thing,” said Mr. Tristram, speaking in a cheerful tone, “is for you to take up your abode in your London house, and give the girls the advantages of masters and mistresses straight from the Metropolis. Why, you will be bringing them out in a couple of years, Mrs. Cardew, and you would like them to have all possible advantages first.”
“Something must be done, certainly,” said Mrs. Cardew; “and I like that girl, Miss Howland, although Lady Lysle seemed prejudiced against her at first.”
“Oh, she is a girl in a thousand,” said Mr. Tristram; “so matter-of-fact and amiable and agreeable. See how she is talking to your husband at this very moment! I never saw 24 a nicer or more modest young creature, but she is so exceedingly clever that she will push her own way anywhere. She has bowled over my two young urchins already, although she has been only a few hours at the rectory. What could Lady Lysle have to say against Maggie Howland?”
“Oh, nothing—nothing at all, and I ought not to have spoken; but it seems she does not much care for Mrs. Howland.”
“I think I can explain that,” said Mr. Tristram. “Mrs. Howland means well, but is a rather silly sort of woman. The girl manages her in the sweetest way. The girl herself takes after her father, poor Howland the African explorer, who lost his life in his country’s cause. He had, I am told, a most remarkable personality.”
When Molly and Isabel Tristram, accompanied by Maggie Howland, the rector, and his wife, walked back to the rectory that evening, Maggie was in excellent spirits. It was natural that the three young people should start on in front. Maggie talked on various subjects; but although the Tristrams were most anxious to get opinions from her with regard to the Cardews, she could not be led to talk of them until they were approaching the house.