re was the
music-master, Mr. Bennett; but he never would allow her to sing a
note, and he taught very dull, old-fashioned pieces. How sick she was
of pieces, and of playing them religiously before her father at least
once a week! Her dancing was better, for she had to go to Warwick to a
dancing-class, and there were other girls, and they made it exciting.
But compared to school, and in especial Mrs. Ward's school, Merry's
mode of instruction was very dull. After all, Molly and Isabel,
although they would be quite poor girls, had a better time than she
and Cicely with all their wealth.

"A penny for your thoughts, my love," said her father at that moment,
and Merry turned her charming little face towards him.

"I ought not to tell them to you, dad," she said, "for they are--I'm
ever so sorry--they are discontented thoughts."

"You discontented, my dear child! I did feel that I had two little
girls unacquainted with the meaning of the word."

"Well, I'll just tell you, and get it over, dad. I'll be perfectly all
right once I have told you."

"Then talk away my child; you know I have your very best interests at
heart."

"Indeed I know that, my darling father. The fact is this," said Merry;
"I"----She stopped; she glanced at her father. He was a most
determined and yet a most absolutely kind man. Merry adored him;
nevertheless, she was a tiny little bit in awe of him.

"What is the matter?" he said, looking round at her. "Has your
companion, that nice little Miss Howland, been putting silly thoughts
into your head? If so, she mustn't come here again."

"Oh father, don't say that! You'll make me quite miserable. And indeed
she has not been putting silly thoughts into my head."

"Well, then, what are you so melancholy about?"

"The fact is--there, I will have it out," said Merry--"I'd give
anything in the world to go to school."

"What?" said Mr. Cardew.

"Yes," said Merry, gaining courage as she spoke; "Molly and Isabel are
going, and Aneta Lysle is there, and Maggie Howland is there, and I'd
like to go, too, and I'm sure Cicely would; and, oh, father! I know it
_can't_ be; but you asked me what was the matter. Well, that's the
matter. I do want most awfully to go to school!"

"Has that girl Miss Howland been telling you that you ought to go to
school?"

"Indeed no, she has not breathed such a word. But I am always
interested, as you know--or as perhaps you don't know--in schools; and
I have always asked--