"There are worse things than the five-finger exercise," broke in Pamela. "I have a sister at home who knows one piece, and whenever she gets near the piano she sits down and plays it—thumps it, I should say—because she 'knows we love it,' she says. We always howl at her, on principle, and the nearest of us swoops down on her, and bears her, protesting, out of the room."
The others laughed with Pamela at this recollection of hers, and attention was distracted from Beryl, much to her relief.
"Well," said Pamela, "for myself—I am going to do a heap of reading—especially historical books; and I want most of all to continue my sketching. I'm very fond of dabbling in black and white sketching—and I want lots of practice. I've brought with me some books about it—to study."
"Oh, you energetic people," yawned Isobel. "It makes me tired to think of the work you're going to do."
"What are you going to do?" Pamela asked, turning to Caroline.
"Well," drawled Caroline, "I like doing needlework better than anything."
Isobel put her handkerchief to her mouth to hide a smile. Fortunately Caroline was not looking at her, but Beryl was. Caroline went on undisturbed.
"I'm not fond of reading or books, but I've been thinking—if there were any classes near by, on dressmaking—cutting out and all that, you know—that I could attend, I wouldn't mind that; but anyway I've got plenty of plain needlework to go on with. I brought a dozen handkerchiefs in my box to hem and embroider—and I've got a tray-cloth to hem-stitch."
"Mind you don't overtax your brain, my dear," muttered Isobel, giggling into her handkerchief.
"Eh?" asked Caroline, not catching her remark.