"It is of no use, mamma," said Ethel. "I could not teach; I am sure I am not fit for it. And, you know, Flora would never obey me."
"That I'd not," put in Miss Flora, wheeling herself half round on the stool. "I hate governesses; and they do me no good. I don't know half as much as I did when Miss Oldham came, twelve months ago. Do I, mamma?"
"I fear you do not, my darling," replied Mrs. Castlemaine. "Miss Oldham's system of teaching was quite a failure, and she sadly neglected her duty; but----"
"Oh, mamma," interrupted Flora, peevishly, "don't put in that horrid 'but.' I tell you I hate governesses; I'm not going to have another. Nothing but learning lessons, lessons, lessons, all day long, just as though you wanted me to be a governess!"
"If you did not learn, Flora, you would grow up a little heathen," Ethel ventured to remark. "You would not like that."
"Now don't you put in your word," retorted the girl, passionately. "It's not your place to interfere with me: is it, mamma?"
"Certainly not, my sweet child."
Miss Flora had changed her place. Quitting the music-stool for the hearthrug, she took up the poker; and now stood brandishing it around, and looking daggers at Ethel. Ethel, her sweet face still flushed, went steadily on with her drawing.
"She's as ill-natured as she can be! She'd like--mamma, she'd like--to see me toiling at geography and French grammar all night as well as all day. Nasty thing!"
"I can believe anything of Ethel that is ill-natured," equably spoke Mrs. Castlemaine, turning her slipper. "But I have made up my mind that she shall teach you, Flo, my love, under--of course, entirely under--my superintendence. Miss Oldham used to resent interference."