"You do too much," said Percival one day to her. They were walking to St. Sylvester's, and Bertie had run back for some music which had been forgotten.
"Perhaps," said Judith simply. "But it can't be helped."
"What! are they all so busy at Standon Square?"
"Well, the holidays, being so near, make more work, and give one the strength to get through it."
"I'm not so sure of that. I'm afraid Miss Crawford leaves too much to you, and you will break down."
"I'm more afraid Miss Crawford will break down. Poor old lady! it goes to my heart to see her. She tries so hard not to see that she is past work; and she is."
"Is she so old? I didn't know—"
"She was a governess till she was quite middle-aged, and then she had contrived to scrape together enough to open this school. My mother was her first pupil, and the best and dearest of all, she says. She had a terribly up-hill time to begin with, and even now it is no very great success. Though she might do very well, poor thing! if they would only let her alone."
"And who will not let her alone?"
"Oh, there is a swarm of hungry relations, who quarrel over every half-penny she makes; and she is so good! But you can understand why she is anxious not to think that her harvest-time is over."