Esther sighed. "Yes," she said hesitatingly. "But—but can't one ever do things just in the way one likes, Cousin Charlotte? There are lots of kind things I should love to do."
"We may choose, generally, whether we will do a thing or not, or whether we will do it in our way, or the way that is mapped out for us. But usually if we choose our own, it is ourselves we please, and not the person we are doing it for. But this we can always do, dearie—if we have to do a thing we do not like, we can teach ourselves to like to do it."
"It sounds like a riddle," said Penelope.
"It very often is," said Miss Charlotte. "But am sure you will all grow to love your singing and your choir when the first shyness is over, and then you will be glad you gave in, and did not choose your own way. And of one thing you may be quite sure: if, as you think, you have no voices, Miss Row will soon tell you so, and you will not be bothered any more about having to sing."
But, after all, somehow it did not seem to them that that was what they wanted.
CHAPTER XI.
To the girls' relief they were not expected to appear at the very next choir practice. Miss Charlotte had a talk with her friend, which tempered her enthusiasm with common sense, with the result that the children had their voices tried and two or three lessons given them before they were expected to appear in public, with the result that poor Poppy, the only one who really longed to be in the choir, was the only one denied that honour. All their voices were pronounced quite good. But Poppy was too young; it would strain her voice, she was told, and to her chagrin she had to sit in an ordinary pew with Miss Ashe while the others sat in what Poppy called the 'dear little' choir stalls in the chancel.
But, to show her defiance of this objectionable, and, as she thought, unnecessary care for her voice, she sang always at the top of it. It happened often that she did not know the right words, but she always managed to pick up the tune quickly, and with just one sentence to repeat over and over again, she got along to her own satisfaction, at any rate convinced in her own mind that it would not be very long before they would be glad to ask her to come into the choir.
So the days flew by and the summer slipped away; autumn had gone and winter, almost, before they realised it, so full were their days with their lessons and their singing, their housework and gardening, walks on the moor, and games and play. By degrees, as Miss Charlotte had foretold, each had made a little niche for herself. Esther had obtained almost complete charge of the drawing-room—no one else dusted it or arranged a flower in it. Penelope sometimes tried to find room in it for one of her pet plants, but unless permission was asked, and Esther chose the place where it might stand, the treasure was certain to be found 'in the way.'