The Third Class at Miss Kaye's Part 2

"Gordon," said Mrs. Lindsay to her husband on the following evening, when he was enjoying his after-dinner cup of coffee in the drawing-room, and she judged him to be in a suitable mood to discuss knotty problems, "I am not at all happy about Sylvia."

Mr. Lindsay paused to take an extra lump of sugar, and to help himself deliberately to some more cream.

"Why, what's wrong with the child?" he asked. "I thought she was looking much as usual to-day."

"She looks quite well," replied Mrs. Lindsay; "but I don't feel satisfied, all the same."

"Try a fresh tonic," suggested her husband, stretching himself lazily in his chair as he spoke.

"A tonic would be of absolutely no use."

"Then you had better send for Dr. Fergusson to-morrow, and let him see her; it's as well to take things in time."

"It's not a case for Dr. Fergusson, yet it has been distressing me for some months. Louisa was here yesterday, and she noticed it also, and spoke to me most seriously about it."

"Really, Blanche, you alarm me! What's the matter with Sylvia? If Dr.

Fergusson can do no good we must take her to a specialist."

"It's not her body, Gordon, it's her mind. She's a dear child, but she's growing so old-fas.h.i.+oned and sedate, she's more like a little old woman than a girl of scarcely eleven. Louisa says it's most unhealthy."

"I wish Louisa would mind her own business," said Mr. Lindsay, frowning; "I can't see anything amiss with Sylvia. I think her old-fas.h.i.+oned ways are particularly charming."

"Yet they are not natural at her age. She's living in a world of dreams and make-believe. Books are all very well, but it's not good for her to be entirely buried in them."

"She has a strong imagination," replied Mr. Lindsay, "a thing Louisa can never appreciate. She inherits it from me, and I fully sympathize with her funny little pretendings."

"Yes, when pretendings don't take the place of real life. Sylvia has been such a solitary child, so accustomed to play by herself and make her own amus.e.m.e.nts, that she has almost lost the desire for young companions."

"I thought she had plenty of friends. Didn't I meet some of them going away yesterday as I returned home?"

"Yes, but she doesn't enjoy having them here. I should be sorry, Gordon, to believe our darling was selfish."

"That she most certainly is not!" declared Mr. Lindsay emphatically.

"Not with us, but I'm afraid she doesn't like her small plans disturbed by other children. She's not very ready to give up her own way; indeed I was obliged to scold her yesterday for reading a book instead of entertaining her visitors."

"She gets absorbed in her books."

"Too much so. She needs to be made to run about more. She's such a gentle little mouse, she always prefers quiet games to a romp. It's not healthy for a child to live continually with only grown-up people.

We've thought so earnestly about her education, and she has been taught so carefully and well, that I really believe we've given her a kind of mental indigestion!"

Mr. Lindsay laughed.

"She's very bright for her age," he said. "She can talk about botany and antiquities as well or better than many an older person. I'd rather have Sylvia for a companion than half the people I know."

"But she mustn't turn out a prig, and I fear she's in sad danger of doing so if we don't take matters in hand at once. Intellectual interests are delightful, and we want her to have them, but they hardly supply the place of tennis and rounders at eleven years of age.

She's far too thin and pale and fragile looking. Louisa says we have been developing her mind at the expense of her body."

Mr. Lindsay groaned and wrinkled up his forehead into lines and puckers.

"What does Louisa propose that we should do then?" he enquired. "I've no doubt she has some plan to suggest."

"She thinks Sylvia ought to be sent away to school."

"Then there is plenty of time to talk it over before Christmas."

"Not at Christmas. At once. The September term has only just begun, and it's not at all too late."

"Whew! But what about Miss Holt? We couldn't pack her off at a moment's notice."

"Her brother's wife died during the summer holidays, and she would be only too delighted to go to keep house for him in Derbys.h.i.+re and look after his motherless children. I believe she didn't wish to return here, only she didn't like to break faith with me. We needn't take her into consideration."

"Then you actually propose to send Sylvia away immediately?"

"I am sure it would be for the best."

"But where?"

"Louisa knows the very school; Miss Kaye's at Aberglyn, where Bertha Harding was educated. It seems satisfactory in every way, and the Welsh mountain air would suit Sylvia; she looked so well after that fortnight we spent at Llandudno."

"I should like to know a little more about it first. Sylvia is such an unusual child, and would be miserable if she were popped down amongst an unsympathetic number of girls and a set of teachers who didn't understand her."

"Miss Kaye is a clever woman. I think her system seems excellent."

"I don't wish Sylvia to grow up a kind of walking dictionary, with her mind so crammed full of Greek, Latin, and Euclid that there's no room for an original idea."

"She won't there. The girls lead a very rational, healthy life, with plenty of time for games and outdoor exercise."

"Neither do I want her conversation to consist of nothing but golf and hockey, like some of the young ladies of my acquaintance, whom I'm afraid I scarcely admire."

"Gordon, how perverse you are! Louisa shall talk to you herself, and tell you everything about the school that you can possibly wish to know. She's coming to-morrow, when we can discuss the question thoroughly, and in the meantime we must take care that Sylvia doesn't get the least idea of what is in the wind."

If our little heroine could only have known the consultations which were taking place about her future she would no doubt have acted very differently on the following day; but as she was quite unaware that any change was proposed, she naturally went on in her accustomed way, with the result that her father, who was regarding her from a new standpoint, noticed a good many things to which he had previously been absolutely blind. In the first place she was dainty at breakfast; refused her egg because it did not happen to be a brown one, left her toast when she found that the crust was burnt, and helped herself to an enormous serving of marmalade, which she did not finish. She argued hotly with Miss Holt about some trifling point, and even took upon herself to correct her mother. She never pa.s.sed anything at table without being asked, jumped up and began to read a book before the others had finished, pretended not to hear when she was requested to ring the bell, and had to be told twice that it was nine o'clock before she would go upstairs to the schoolroom.

"It's certainly high time we sent her away," thought Mr. Lindsay. "I'm afraid, with the best of intentions, we've completely spoilt her.

Louisa's right. She needs to be among other girls, to have her corners rubbed off. At school there's no allowance made for fads and fancies, and she would be obliged to fall in with the general rules. It will do her good to be of a little less importance than she is at home.

Strange that I never noticed all this before!"

When Aunt Louisa arrived, therefore, in the evening, prepared to encounter a great many objections to her suggestion, she was surprised to find that her brother agreed with her so easily, and, after listening to her detailed accounts of Miss Kaye's excellent arrangements, consented quite readily that Sylvia should be sent there as soon as the necessary preliminaries had been settled and her clothing should be considered in due order.

"A week will be ample time for that," said Aunt Louisa. "Miss Saunders will soon run her up a school frock, and you could send anything else she requires afterwards, Blanche. It would be a pity for her to lose more of the term than we can help. She won't like to find herself behind-hand in the cla.s.ses, and now you have made up your minds it will be better not to let her have too long to think it over."

"I don't know what Sylvia will say!" sighed Mrs. Lindsay, who half repented of parting with her darling. "I'm afraid she will never forgive us."

"I shouldn't ask her," replied Aunt Louisa firmly. "She will like it very much when once she gets there, and the improvement which it will make in her is well worth a few tears at the start. I beg, Blanche, that you will not be foolish now, and stand in the way of the child's real good."

"I'll try not," said poor Mrs. Lindsay, wiping her eyes; "but when you've only the one, and she's never been away from you before, it seems so hard to let her go."