“Has that girl Miss Howland been telling you that you ought to go to school?”
“Indeed no, she has not breathed such a word. But I am always interested, as you know—or as perhaps you don’t know—in schools; and I have always asked—and so has Cicely—Molly and Isabel to tell us all about their lives at school.”
“I did not know it, my little Merry.”
“Well, yes, father, Cicely and I have been curious; for, you see, the life is so very different from ours. And so to-day, when Maggie and I were in the picture-gallery, I asked her to tell me about Aylmer House, and she—she did.”
“She made a glowing picture, evidently,” said Mr. Cardew.
“Oh father, it must be so lovely! Think of it, father—to get the best music and the best art, and to be under the influence of a woman like Mrs. Ward. Oh, it must be good! Do you know, father, that every girl in her school has an East End girl to look after and help; so that some of the riches of the West should be felt and appreciated by those who live in the East. Oh father! I could not help feeling a little jealous.”
“Yes, darling, I quite understand. And you find your life 36 with Miss Beverley and Mr. Vaughan and Mr. Bennett a little monotonous compared to the variety which a school-life affords?”
“That is it, father darling.”
“I don’t blame you in the least, Merry—not in the very least; but the fact is, I have my own reasons for not approving of school-life. I prefer girls who are trained at home. If, indeed, you had to earn your living it would be a different matter. But you will be rich, dear, some day, and––Well, I am glad you’ve spoken to me. Don’t think anything more about it. Come in to lunch now.”
“I’ll try not to think of it, father; and you’re not really angry?”