“What did he say? I was so excited and outraged that I scarcely comprehended him.”
“He said that the teacher, guide, and companion of our children must be socially equal, or she cannot lift them up to our level. And he asked, with to me startling emphasis, ‘Can the coarse, unskilled hands of an inferior mould into forms of spiritual beauty the ductile elements of a child’s mind,—that sublime creation over which angels bend in silent wonder?’ ‘Choose,’ he added, ‘the wisest and the best; and give her the place of honor in your household.’ There is force in that view of the question, Madeline,—great force; and our sad experience with Mrs. Jeckyl should be felt as a solemn warning. If menials and inferiors are to be instructors of our children, will they not deprave their tastes instead of elevating them? Can an impure fountain send forth sweet waters? We cannot gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles.”
Mrs. Dainty sat with her eyes cast down, and a thoughtful, sober expression on her face.
“For the sake of our children,” she said, looking up, after the lapse of some moments, “I ought to be willing to do almost any thing. But this is a hard requirement.”
“I do not believe,” answered Mr. Dainty, “that Miss Harper will ever intrude herself offensively upon us. In no instance since she has been in our house have I observed the slightest tendency in that direction.”
“I have had better opportunities for observation,” was the reply, “and read her deportment somewhat differently. Why, if she were to the very manor born, she could not bear herself with greater ease nor show a higher self-possession. There is the tone and carriage about her of one who acknowledges no superior. It is this in the girl that has always annoyed me.”
“You may have looked through a distorting medium,” said Mr. Dainty.
“It is possible,” was answered, in a subdued voice. And then another long silence followed. It was broken in upon by the entrance of Agnes, their oldest daughter. She pushed the door open quietly, and, seeing her father and mother alone, was about retiring, when the former said,—
“Come in, daughter.”
“I only wanted a book,” remarked Agnes.