it was Allen. He is the only one you did not see in the morning. Did they do tolerably?”
“I only wish I had any boys who did half as well,” said Mr. Ogilvie, the lads being gone for more books.
“I was afraid for John and Armine, for we have been unsettled, and I could not go on so steadily with them as before,” she said eagerly, but faltering a little. “Armine told me he blundered in Phaedrus, but I hope he did fairly on the whole.”
“So well that if you ask my advice, I should say keep him to yourself two years more.”
“Oh! I am so glad,” with a little start of joy. “You’ll tell his uncle? He insisted—he had some impression that they were very naughty boys, whom I could not cope with, poor little fellows.”
“I can decidedly say he is learning more from you than he would in school among those with whom, at his age, I must place him.”
“Thank you, thank you. Then Babie won’t lose her companion. She wanted to go to school with Armie, having always gone on with him. And the other two—what of them? Bobus is sure to work for the mere pleasure of it—but Jock?”
“I don’t promise that he may not let himself down to the standard of his age and develop a capacity for idleness, but even he has time to spare, and he is at that time of life when boys do for one another what no one else can do for them.”
“The Colonel said the boys were a good set and gentlemanly,” said Carey wistfully.
“I think I may say that for them,” returned their master. “They are not bad boys as boys go. There is as much honour and kindliness among them as you would find anywhere. Besides, to boys like yours this would be only a preparatory school. They are sure to fly off to scholarships.”
“I don’t know,” said Carey. “I want them to be where physical science is an object. Or do you think that thorough classical training is a better preparation than taking up any individual line?”
“I believe it is easier to learn how to learn through languages than through anything else.”
“And to be taught how to learn is a much greater thing than to be crammed,” said Carey. “Of course when one begins to teach oneself, the world has become “mine oyster,” and one has the dagger. The point becomes how to sharpen the dagger.”
At that moment three or four young people rushed in with arms full of books, and announcing that the uncle and aunt were coming. The next moment they appeared, and stood amazed at the accession of volunteer auxiliaries. Mr. Ogilvie introduced his sister, while Caroline explained that she was an old friend,—meanwhile putting up a hand to feel for her cap, as she detected in Ellen’s eyes those words, “Caroline, your cap.”
“We came to see how you were getting on,” said the Colonel, kindly.
“Thank you, we are getting on capitally. And oh, Robert, Mr. Ogilvie will tell you; he thinks Armine too—too—I mean he thinks he had better not go into school yet,” she added, thankful that she had not said “too clever for the school.”
The Colonel turned aside with the master to discuss the matter, and the ladies went into the drawing-room, the new room opening on the lawn, under a verandah, with French windows. It was full of furniture in the most dire confusion. Mrs. Robert Brownlow wanted to clear off at once the desks and other things that seemed school-room properties, saying that a little room downstairs had always served the purpose.
“That must be nurse’s sitting-room,” said Carey.
“Old nurse! She can be of no use, my dear!”
“Oh yes, she is; she has lived with us ever since dear grandmamma married, and has no home, and no relations. We could not get on without dear old nursey!”
“Well, my dear, I hope you will find it answer to keep her on. But as to this room! It is such a pity not to keep it nice, when you have such handsome furniture too.”
“I want to keep it nice with habitation,” said Caroline. “That’s the only way to do it. I can’t bear fusty, shut-up smart rooms, and I think the family room ought to be the pleasantest and prettiest in the house for the children’s sake.”
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Brownlow, with a serene good nature, contrasting with the heat with which Caroline spoke, “it is your affair, my dear, but my boys would not thank me for shutting them in with my pretty things, and I should be sorry to have them there. Healthy country boys like to have their fun, and I would not coop them up.”
“Oh, but there’s the studio to run riot in, Ellen,” said Carey. “Didn’t you see? The upper story of the tower. We have put the boy’s tools there, and I can do my modelling there, and make messes and all that’s nice,” she said, smiling to Mary, and to Allen, who had just come in.
“Do you model, Carey?” Mary asked, and Allen volunteered to show his mother’s groups and bas-reliefs, thereby much increasing the litter on the floor, and delighting Mary a good deal more than his aunt, who asked, “What will you do for a store-room then?”
“Put up a few cupboards and shelves anywhere.”
It is not easy to describe the sort of air with which Mrs. Robert Brownlow received this answer. She said nothing but “Oh,” and was perfectly unruffled in a sort of sublime contempt, as to the hopelessness of doing anything with such a being on her own ground.
There did not seem overt provocation, but poor Caroline, used to petting and approval, chafed and reasoned: “I don’t think anything so important as a happy home for the boys, where they can have their pursuits, and enjoy themselves.”
Mrs. Brownlow seemed to think this totally irrelevant, and observed, “When I have nice things, I like to keep them nice.”
“I like nice boys better than nice things,” cried Carey.
Ellen smiled as though to say she hoped she was not an unnatural mother, and again said “Oh!”
Mary Ogilvie was very glad to see the two gentlemen come in from the hall, the Colonel saying, “Mr. Ogilvie tells me he thinks Armine too small at present for school, Caroline.”
“You know I am very glad of it, Robert,” she said, smiling gratefully, and Ellen compassionately observed, “Poor little fellow, he is very small, but country air and food will soon make a man of him if he is not overdone with books. I make it a point never to force my children.”
“No, that you don’t,” said Caroline, with a dangerous smile about the corners of her mouth.
“And my boys do quite as well as if they had their heads stuffed and their growth stunted,” said Ellen. “Joe is only two months older than Armine, and you are quite satisfied with him, are you not, Mr. Ogilvie?”
“He is more on a level with the others,” said Mr. Ogilvie politely; “but I wish they were all as forward as this little fellow.”
“Schoolmasters and mammas don’t always agree on those points,” said the Colonel good-humouredly.
“Very true,” responded his wife. “I never was one for teasing the poor boys with study and all that. I had rather see them strong and well grown. They’ll have quite worry enough when they go to school.”
“I’m sorry you look at me
