the working at things--I mean in the
drudgery of learning, rather than in the triumph of having learnt."

"There's something in that," said Clement. And it was a great deal for
Clement to say.

It does not take much to convert _me_ to Eleanor's views of anything.
But I do think experience bears out what she said about this matter.

Perhaps that accounts for my having a happy remembrance of old times
when we worked at things together, even if we failed and cried over
them.

I know that practically, now, I would willingly join the others in going
at anything, though I could not promise not to be peevish over my own
stupidity sometimes, and if I was very much tired.

I don't think there was anything untrue in my calling the times we went
sketching together happy times--in spite of what Clement says.

But he does rule such very straight lines all over life, and I sometimes
think one may rule them too straight--even for full truth.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS--CLIQUE--THE LESSONS OF EXPERIENCE--OUT
VISITING--HOUSE-PRIDE--DRESSMAKING.

Eleanor and I were not always at home. We generally went visiting
somewhere, at least once a year.

I think it was good for us. Great as were the advantages of the life I
now shared over an existence wasted in a petty round of ignoble gossip
and social struggle, it had the drawback of being almost too
self-sufficing, perhaps--I am not certain--a little too laborious. I do
think, but for me, it must, at any rate, have become the latter. I am so
much less industrious, energetic, clever and good in every way than
Eleanor, for one thing, that my very idleness holds us back; and I think
a taste for gaiety (I simply mean being gay, not balls and parties), and
for social pleasure, and for pretty things, and graceful "situations"
runs in my veins with my French blood, and helps to break the current of
our labours.

We led lives of considerable intellectual activity, constant occupation,
and engrossing interest. We were apt to "foy" at our work to the extent
of grudging meal-times and sleep. Indeed, at one time a habit obtained
with us of leaving the table in turn as we finished our respective
meals. One member of the family after another would rise, bend his or
her head for a silent "grace," and depart to the work in hand. I have
known the table gradually deserted in this fashion till Mr. Arkwright
was left alone. I remember going back one day into the room, and seeing
hi