from her
mother, so she was forced to content herself with uttering silent vows
of perpetual recollection as she passed each well-known object,--the
unfinished church, with Mr. Spyers at the door talking to old Bellman;
the Town Hall, whose concerts, lectures, and S. P. G. meetings had been
her chief gaiety and excitement; the School of Art, where Lady
Kirkaldy's appearance now seemed to her to have been like that of a
bird of omen; past the shops in the High Street, with a little
exultation at the thought of past desires which they had excited. Long
could she have rattled away, her hopes contradicting her regrets, and
her regrets qualifying her anticipations, but she saw that her mother
was nervous about every word and gesture, and fairly looked dismayed
when she exclaimed, 'Oh, mother, there's Etta Smith; how surprised she
will be!' bowing and smiling with all her might.

There was a look of bare toleration on Mr. Egremont's face, as if he
endured because it would soon be over, as Nuttie bowed several times,
and his wife, though less quick to catch people's eyes, sometimes also
made her recognition. When the streets were past and Nuttie had aimed
her last nods at the nursery parties out walking on the road, she
became aware that those cold, lack-lustre, and yet sharply critical
eyes of her father were scanning her all over.

'She has been educated?' he presently said to his wife.

'Oh yes,' was the eager answer. 'She is in the highest form at the
High School, and has to go up for the Senior Local Examination. Miss
Belper makes sure that she will get a first class.'

Mr. Egremont gave a little wave of the hand, as dismissing something
superfluous, and said, 'I hope she has some accomplishments.'

'She has done very fairly in French and German--'

'And Latin,' put in Ursula.

'And she has had several prizes at the School of Art.'

'And music? That's the only thing of any value in society,' he said
impatiently, and Mrs. Egremont said more timidly, 'She has learnt music
regularly.'

'But I don't care about it,' broke in Nuttie. 'I haven't mother's ear
nor her voice. I learnt the science in case I should have to teach,
and they make me practise. I don't mind classical music, but I can't
stand rubbish, and I think it is waste of time.'

Mr. Egremont looked fairly amused, as at the outspoken folly of an
enfant terrible, but he only said, either to his wife or to himself, 'A
little polish, and then she ma