“You certainly have plenty of time to think about anything of that kind,” she said. “I cannot fix as yet what we must do, but in the meantime I hope you will learn as much and as well as you can with Miss Earle. She is such a first-rate teacher. I shall be terribly sorry to part with her,” and she sighed.
“I shan’t,” said Chrissie, “she does nothing but scold.”
“No doubt you deserve it then,” said Roland gruffly. He was terribly sorry for his mother, and his sisters’ want of sympathy made him indignant.
“I don’t think either of them cares, as long as things don’t touch themselves,” he said to Mrs Fortescue when Leila and Chrissie had left the room.
“Things will touch themselves, and very sharply,” his mother replied with a sigh. “They don’t realise it at all, Roland; we must remember that they are very young.”
“They are just very spoilt and selfish,” the boy muttered. “Just look at Jap, Mums—what a difference! And he’s only seven, and quite ready to be a shoe-black if it would be any help to you. I tell you what, mother, it will be a capital thing for those girls to have to rough it a bit.”
“I hope so. I suppose there is good hidden in every trouble, though it is sometimes difficult to see it,” Mrs Fortescue answered. “But, darling, don’t be too down on your sisters. If they are spoilt, and I fear they are, it is my fault more than theirs.” Roland put his arms round his mother and kissed her. “Nothing’s your fault, except that you’ve been far too kind to us all,” he said, “and—about my still going to school—to Winton, I mean. I don’t half like it. Why should I be the only one to—well, why should things be made smoother for me than for the others? The girls will be thinking it’s not fair.”
His mother smiled.
“It’s not likely that they will be jealous of your going to school,” she said. “I’m quite sure they don’t want to be sent to school themselves.”
“Oh, but it’s quite different for girls,” said Roland.