r.
To her surprise, father and mother looked coldly upon the project, and
so far from admiring her industry thought it a pity to introduce work
into the holidays. It needed a hard struggle to induce them to consent
to three lessons a week instead of six, and she had to face the
certainty that private study would be made as difficult as possible.
Even Harold elevated his eyebrows and enquired, "Why this tremendous
hurry?" as if he had never been to a public school himself and known the
necessity for advance.

Rhoda betook herself to the faithful Ella in no very gentle mood, and
stormed about the small Vicarage garden like a young whirlwind.

"Well, I must say grown-ups are the most tiresome, aggravating,
unreasonable creatures that were ever invented! First they want you to
work, and urge you to work, and goad you to work, and `Oh, my dear, it
would do you all the good in the world to compete with other girls,' and
then, the moment you take them at their word and get interested and
eager, round they turn, and it's, `Oh the folly of cram! Oh the
importance of health!' `Oh what does it matter, my dear good child, if
you _are_ a dunce, so long as you keep your complexion!' No, I'm not
angry, I'm perfectly calm, but it makes me _ill_! I can't stand being
thwarted in my best and noblest ambitions. If I had a daughter, and she
wanted to cram in her holidays, I'd be proud of her, and try to help,
instead of throwing hindrances in the way. It's very hard, I must say,
to get no sympathy from one's nearest and dearest. Even your father
looked at me over his spectacles as if I were a wild animal. I thought
he would have been pleased with my industry."

"He is; I know he is; but he thinks you may overdo it. You know, Rhoda,
you _are_ impetuous! When you take up an idea you ride it to death, and
in lessons that doesn't pay. Slow and sure wins the--"

"Rubbish! Humbug! It will never win my race, for I have a definite
time to run it in, and not a day more. It has to be a gallop, and a
pretty stiff one at that. For goodness' sake, Ella, don't _you_ begin
to preach. You might be grown-up yourself, sitting there prosing in
that horribly well-regulated fashion."

"I'm not well-regulated!" cried Ella, incensed by the insinuation. "I
was only trying to calm you down because you were in such a temper.
What is the use of worrying? You have got your own way; why can't you
be happy? Leave the wretched old Latin alone, a