“Yes, yes; read it aloud. I declare I have hardly taken it in, I am so bewildered at Aunt Henrietta’s point of view.”
Annie accordingly picked up the sheets, put them in order, and proceeded to read the following words:
”‘Grand Hotel, Paris, July 10.
”‘My dear Mabel,—Your last extraordinary letter and your unladylike, and frantic desire to leave such a desirable place as Mrs Lyttelton’s school have affected me a great deal. You speak with great intemperance, my dear, and annoy me much. You seem to forget that my one sole object in treating you as I do is for your good. But really, after your last letter, I do not think school can be doing you much good, and provided you will subject yourself to a test which I am about to set you, I will yield to your request. I may as well tell you first of all that I strongly disapprove of girls coming out too young. It is quite true that many girls do enter upon life and go into society at eighteen years of age; but, to begin, my dear Mabel, you are hardly that age yet; and, to go oh, I personally consider eighteen too young. At nineteen you are steadier, older, more formed. During that last precious twelve months between eighteen and nineteen you are capable of learning more than you have done in all your life previously. During those months you are becoming fitted for your future position—’”
“Doesn’t she lecture?” said Mabel. “Didn’t I tell you so? Do go on quickly, please, Annie. Skip that part; I want you to come to the test.”
“I don’t mean to skip a single word,” said Annie.
“Well, be quick,” groaned Mabel. Annie proceeded, her level voice, which neither rose nor fell, but kept on in a sort of even monotone, reaching Mabel’s ears, who was far too interested to allow her thoughts to wander: ”‘My dear’ (continued Aunt Henrietta), ‘on receiving your last letter I wrote to Mrs Lyttelton; I could not reply to your letter until I had first heard from your excellent governess. I was pleased to find that on the whole she gave me an admirable report of you. She says that she considers you a promising pupil, not especially brilliant, but plodding and conscientious.’”
“I plodding and conscientious!” said Mabel. “Oh, the horrid epithets!”
“Keep quiet, Mabel,” said Annie. “These are the sort of remarks that are likely to impress your aunt Henrietta.”
“Are they?” said Mabel. “Then in that case I suppose I must endure them.”
“Well,” said Annie, “let me proceed. ‘Mrs Lyttelton is pleased with you, my dear. She says your music is up to the average, your drawing not bad’—”