s they say, and nobody knows
but what I may be clever too, only people haven't noticed it yet.
I am sure I feel as if I might be."

It was unfortunate, though, for the Trenire girls that Mrs. Pike had
settled all the arrangements for their going to "Hillside;" it was
unfortunate for them too that Miss Richards and Miss Melinda placed
unquestioning reliance on what was told them, and had no powers of
observation of their own, or failed to use them, for it meant to them
that they started unfairly handicapped. Miss Richards was warned that
she would find Dr. Trenire's daughters backward and badly taught, and
entirely unused to discipline or control. "Of course the poor dear
doctor had not been able to give them all the attention they needed, and
he was such a gentle, kind father, perhaps _too_ kind and gentle, which
made it rather trying for others. It was to be hoped that dear Miss
Richards would not find the children _too_ trying. She must be very
strict with them; it would, of course, be for their own good
eventually." "Dear Miss Richards" felt quite sure of that, and had no
doubt that she would be able to manage them. She had had much success
with girls. She was glad, though, to be warned that there was need of
special care--in fact, dear Lady Kitson had hinted at very much the same
thing.

So the paths of Katherine and Elizabeth were strewn with thorns and
stumbling-blocks from the outset, and, unfortunately, they were not the
girls to see and avoid them, or even guess they were there until they
fell over them.

Anna, having been brought up under her mother's eye, was, of course,
quite, quite different; Anna was really a credit to the care which had
been lavished on her. Miss Richards and Miss Melinda did not doubt it;
they declared that it was evident at the first glance, and acted
accordingly. Which was, no doubt, pleasant for Anna, but, on the
whole, turned out in the end worse for her than for her cousins.

Anna certainly had been well trained in one respect--she could learn her
home lessons and prepare her home work under any conditions, it seemed,
and she always did them well. Kitty had an idea, a very foolish one, of
course, that she could only work when alone and quiet, say in her
bedroom, or in the barn, or lying in the grass in the garden, or in the
woods. All of which was inelegant, unladylike, and nonsensical.
Kitty must get the better of such ideas at once, and must learn her
lessons as An