“Yes, sir—­and—­”

“Well, go on, my dear.  Do not hesitate to speak freely.”

“If you please, sir, I should like to study Greek also.”

“Oh, nonsense, Edna! women never have any use for Greek; it would only be a waste of your time,” interrupted Mrs. Murray.

Mr. Hammond smiled and shook his head.

“Why do you wish to study Greek?  You will scarcely be called upon to teach it.”

“I should not think that I was well or thoroughly educated if I did not understand Greek and Latin; and beside, I want to read what Solon and Pericles and Demosthenes wrote in their own language.”

“Why, what do you know about those men?”

“Only what Plutarch says.”

“What kind of books do you read with most pleasure?”

“History and travels.”

“Are you fond of arithmetic?”

“No, sir.”

“But as a teacher you will have much more use for mathematics than for Greek.”

“I should think that, with all my life before me, I might study both; and even if I should have no use for it, it would do me no harm to understand it.  Knowledge is never in the way, is it?”

“Certainly not half so often as ignorance.  Very well; you shall learn Greek as fast as you please.  I should like to hear you read something.  Here is Goldsmith’s Deserted Village; suppose you try a few lines; begin here at ‘Sweet was the sound.’”

She read aloud the passage designated, and as he expressed himself satisfied, and took the book from her hand, Mrs. Murray said: 

“I think the child is as inveterate a bookworm as I ever knew; but for heaven’s sake, Mr. Hammond, do not make her a blue-stocking.”

“Ellen, did you ever see a genuine blue-stocking?”

“I am happy to be able to say that I never was so unfortunate.”

“You consider yourself lucky then, in not having known De Stael, Hannah More, Charlotte Bronte, and Mrs. Browning?”

“To be consistent, of course, I must answer yes; but you know we women are never supposed to understand that term, much less possess the jewel itself; and beside, sir, you take undue advantage of me, for the women you mention were truly great geniuses.  I was not objecting to genius in women.”

“Without those auxiliaries and adjuncts which you deprecate so earnestly, would their native genius ever have distinguished them, or charmed and benefited the world?  Brilliant success makes blue-stockings autocratic, and the world flatters and crowns them; but unsuccessful aspirants are strangled with an offensive sobriquet, than which it were better that they had mill-stones tied about their necks.  After all, Ellen, it is rather ludicrous, and seems very unfair, that the whole class of literary ladies should be sneered at on account of the color of Stillingfleet’s stockings, eighty years ago.”

“If you please, sir, I should like to know the meaning of ’blue-stocking?’” said Edna.