"No. Mr. Carlisle, would you like a cup of tea, if you could get it?"
She had met his questions with a full clear look of her eyes, in which certainly there lay no lurking shadow. He read them, and drank his tea rather moodily.
"So, Eleanor," said Mrs. Powle the next day, "you have enlisted Mr. Carlisle on your side as usual, and he will have you go to your absurd school as you want to do. How did people get along before Ragged schools were invented, I should like to know?"
"You would not like to know, mamma. It was in misery and ignorance and crime, such as you would be made sick to hear of."
"Well, they live in it yet, I suppose; or are they all reclaimed already?"
"They live in it yet—many a one."
"And it is among such people you go! Well, I wash my hands of it. Mr.
Carlisle will not have you molested. He must have his own way."
"What has he to do with it, mamma?" Eleanor asked, a little indignantly.
"A good deal, I should say. You are not such a fool as not to know what he is with you all the time for, Eleanor."
A hot colour came up in Eleanor's cheeks.