“Really, I don’t see why Rockquay should not have a little rational study!”

“Ah! but the present question is what Rockquay will buy; to further future development it may be, but I am afraid their brains are not yet developed enough,” said Emma Norton.

“Well then, here is the comparison between Euripides and Shakespeare.”

“That’s what you read papa and everybody to sleep with,” said Valetta pertly.

“Except Aunt Lily, and she said she had read something very like it in Schlegel,” added Dolores.

“You must not be too deep for ordinary intellects, Gillian,” said Emma Norton good-naturedly.  “Surely there is that pretty history you made out of Count Baldwin the Pretender.”

“That!  Oh, that is a childish concern.”

“The better fitted for our understandings,” said Emma, disinterring it, and handing it over to Anna, while Mysie breathed out—-

“Oh!  I did like it!  And, Gill, where is Phyllis’s account of the Jubilee gaieties and procession last year?”

“That would make the fortune of any paper,” said Anna.

“Yes, if Lady Rotherwood will let it be used,” said Gillian.  “It is really delightful and full of fun, but I am quite sure that her name could not appear, and I do not expect leave to use it.”

“Shall I write and ask?” said Mysie.

“Oh yes, do; if Cousin Rotherwood is always gracious, it is specially to you.”

“I wrote to my cousin, Gerald Underwood,” said Anna, “to ask if he had anything to spare us, though I knew he would laugh at the whole concern, and he has sent down this.  I don’t quite know whether he was in earnest or in mischief.”

And she read aloud—-

“Dreaming of her laurels green,
The learned Girton girl is seen,
Or under the trapeze neat
Figuring as an athlete.

Never at the kitchen door
Will she scrub or polish more;
No metaphoric dirt she eats,
Literal dirt may form her treats.

Mary never idle sits,
Home lessons can’t be learnt by fits;
Hard she studies all the week,
Answers with undaunted cheek.

When to exam Mary goes,
Smartly dressed in stunning clothes,
Expert in algebraic rule,
Best pupil-teacher of her school.

Oh, how clever we are found
Who live on England’s happy ground,
Where rich and poor and wretched may
Be drilled in Whitehall’s favoured way.”

There was a good deal of laughter at this parody of Jane Taylor’s Village Girl, though Mysie was inclined to be shocked as at something profane.

“Then what will you think of this?” said Anna, beginning gravely to read aloud The Inspector’s Tour.