had come
into her life who had suddenly turned her gold to gray, her sunshine
to shadow. She was a very nice girl, too--exceedingly nice. There was
something about her which Merry found impossible to define, for Merry
had no acquaintances just then in her sheltered life who possessed the
all-important and marvelous power of charm. Merry knew quite well that
Maggie Howland was neither rich nor beautiful. She was just a little
schoolgirl, and yet she could not get Maggie out of her head. She
sighed for the girl's companionship, and she sighed yet more for the
forbidden fruit which Maggie had placed so enticingly before her
mental vision: the school-life, the good life, the energetic,
purposeful life. Music--oh, how passionately Merry loved the very
little music she had ever heard! And art--Merry and Cicely had learned
a little bit of art in their own picture-gallery; but of all there was
outside they knew nothing. Then that delightful, wonderful scheme of
having an East End girl for your very own to train, and help, and
write to, and support; and the companionship, and all the magical
things which the Tristrams had more or less enjoyed in foreign
schools, but which seemed to have reached a delicacy of perfection at
Aylmer House!

Yes, doubtless these were forbidden fruits; but she could not help, as
she paced alone on the terrace, contrasting her mode of education with
that which was put within the reach of her friends Molly and Isabel,
and of Maggie herself. How dull, after all, were her lessons! The
daily governess, who was always tired when she arrived, taught her out
of books which even Molly and Isabel declared to be out of date; who
yawned a good deal; who was always quite, quite kind, but at the same
time had no enthusiasm; who said, "Yes, my dears; very nicely done,"
but never even punished; and who only uttered just that mild phrase
which was monotonous by reason of its repetition. Where was the good
of reading Racine aloud to Miss Beverley day after day, and not being
able to talk French properly at all? And where was the use of
struggling through German with the same instructress?

Then the drawing-master who came from Warwick: he was better than Miss
Beverley; but, after all, he taught what Molly and Isabel said was now
quite exploded--namely, freehand--and he only came once a week.
Merry's passion was for music more than for drawing; it was Cicely who
pleased Mr. Vaughan, the drawing-master, best. Then the