was told Aunt Rennie’s opinion on the matter—­(Tabitha always absurdly shortened her Aunt’s surname, which was Rensworth).  I never could mention a book I liked but Aunt Rennie had either read it or not read it.  It did not matter which to me, the least.  But the climax came when Aunt Rennie sent Tabitha a bicycle.  Now I know that young women bicycle nowadays; but that is no reason why Tabitha should.  I always turn away my eyes when I see a young girl pass the window on one of those ugly, muddy, dangerous machines, with her knees working like pumps, her skirt I don’t know where, and an expression of self-satisfied determination on her face.  I don’t think I am old-fashioned, but I am sure my own dear little girl, if she had ever come to me, would not have bicycled; and though I had no wish to put any unfair restraint on Tabitha, still I did not want her to have a bicycle.  And that this Aunt Rennie, as Tabitha would call her, without a word of warning, should send her one of those hideous things, as if it was her business to arrange for Tabitha’s exercise—­I do think it was rather uncalled for.

When Tabitha came into the room to tell me about it, with that bright, affectionate smile she has, and her dear, plain, pale face—­only that nobody would think her plain who knew her, for everybody loves her—­she saw quickly enough that I did not like it:  and then she was so sweet, looking so disappointed, and yet ready to give up the horrid thing if I wished, that I hardly knew what to do.  Tabitha works on one in a way that I believe nobody else can.  She has such a generous, warm heart, and is so responsive, and so quick to understand, and then she is so easily pleased, and so free from self-consciousness, you seem to know her all at once, and you feel as if it would be wicked to hurt her.  So I don’t know how it was exactly, but I began to give in about the bicycle; though I could not help mentioning that it was rather unnecessary for Aunt Rennie to have taken the trouble:  for Tabitha might have told me if she wanted a bicycle so much.  And Tabitha said that Aunt Rennie thought bicycling was good for her, and, when she lived with her, a year ago, her Aunt used to take her on her tours round the villages, distributing, what she called “political literature.”  This did make me shudder, I confess.  Fancy Tabitha turning into one of those canvassing women, with their uncivilised energy, their irritating superiority, and their entire want of decent respect for you and your own opinions!  I knew that Aunt Rennie belonged to a Woman Suffrage Committee, but I did think she had left the child uncontaminated.  It made me more thankful than ever that I had rescued her from the hands of such a person.  However, as you see, I could not refuse to let Tabitha ride that bicycle; but I always knew that harm would come of it.