“Poor Chrissie,” said Mrs Fortescue, hastening to prevent a squabble, “I am afraid you have had a very dull morning. You will feel more settled when you have some lessons again, won’t you?”
Her words roused the child’s curiosity. Not that she was by any means eager for schoolroom work to begin.
“Are we going to have a governess?” she inquired. “I thought p’raps you’d teach us yourself, Mummy, as we’ve so little money now to pay for lessons.”
“And Roland’s school will take all there is,” murmured Leila gloomily. “I wish I was a boy, I know that.”
Her mother glanced at her, but said nothing in reply to these remarks. And then she went on quietly—
“Nothing is quite settled yet. I have had so many other things to attend to. I am thinking of taking your music lessons myself”—Mrs Fortescue played beautifully,—“but I should not have time for more. I hope to find a good English teacher to come three or four mornings a week, and Aunt Margaret wants to give you French lessons. You know she is an excellent French scholar; she was educated in France and has been there so much.”
“Aunt Margaret!” repeated the children, and from their tone it was difficult to judge if the idea met with their gracious approval or not, and their mother showed no intention of inquiring as to this.
“In the meantime,” she continued, “I think you might make some sort of plan for yourselves. And I want Jasper to have some lessons every day. Chrissie, you seem very short of occupation. Suppose you read with him this afternoon, and give him a little writing and arithmetic?”
Christabel hesitated.
“I don’t mind sums,” she said, “I like them and I can explain them quite well; but as for reading—he does read so slowly, Mummy—it was bad enough to hear him with Miss Earle. I wanted to shake them both, often.”