hree inches deep in the mysteries of a spencer, (I do
not mean Edmund,)' said Elizabeth, 'and it will not be out of her head
these three days, at least not till she has made Mamma's old black
satin gown into one after Harriet's pattern; I heard her asking for it
as I came up-stairs.'

'And would not Helen go?' said Anne; 'she does not catch cold as easily
as you do.'

'Helen has contrived, somehow or other,' said Elizabeth, 'to know no
more about the school-children than if they were so many Esquimaux;
besides, anyone with any experience of Helen's ways, had rather walk
ninety miles in the rain, than be at the pains of routing her out of
the corner of the sofa to do anything useful.'

'Indeed,' said Anne, 'I think Helen does wish to make herself useful.'

'I dare say she sits still and wishes it in the abstract, for I think
it must be a very disagreeable thing to reflect that she might as well
be that plaster statue for any good that she does,' said Elizabeth;
'but she grumbles at every individual thing you propose for her to do,
just as she says she wishes to be a companion to Dora and Winifred, yet
whenever they wish her to play with them or tell them a story, which is
all the companionship children of their age understand, she is always
too much at her ease to be disturbed. And now, as she is the only
person in the house with whom poor Lucy is tolerably at her ease, it
would be cruel to take her away.'

'That is more of a reason,' said Anne; 'what a pity it is that Lucy is
so shy!'

'Excessive shyness and reserve is what prevents her mother from being
able to spoil her,' said Elizabeth; 'so do not regret it.'

'Still I do not like to see you going out in this way,' said Anne.

'I may truly say that rain never hurts me,' said Elizabeth; 'and if I
once let one trifle stop me in these parish matters, I shall be stopped
for ever, and never do anything. Perhaps I shall not come back this
hour and a half, for old Mrs. Clayton must be dying to hear all about
our Consecration, luncheon, dinner, &c., and as she is the widow of the
last Vicar, we are in duty bound to be civil to her, and I must go and
call upon her. Oh! you poor thing, I forgot how deserted you will be,
and really the drawing-room is almost uninhabitable with that Bengal
tiger in it. Here is that delightful Norman Conquest for you to read;
pray look at the part about Hereward the Saxon.'

Elizabeth would not trust herself to stay with Anne any lo