My father had
a horror of girls' schools (and if he could "get through"--to use
the orthodox expression of the spookists--he would find all his
opinions on this subject more than justified by the manners,
morals and learning of the young ladies of the present day) but as
it was a question of only a few months he waived his objection.
No. 7 Gloucester Crescent looked down on the Great Western
Railway; the lowing of cows, the bleating of sheep and sudden
shrill whistles and other odd sounds kept me awake, and my bed
rocked and trembled as the vigorous trains passed at uncertain
intervals all through the night. This, combined with sticky food,
was more than Laura could bear and she had no difficulty in
persuading my papa that if she were to stay longer than one week
her health would certainly suffer. I was much upset when she left
me, but faintly consoled by receiving permission to ride in the
Row three times a week; Mlle. de Mennecy thought my beautiful hack
gave prestige to her front door and raised no objections.
Sitting alone in the horsehair schoolroom, with a French patent-
leather Bible in my hands, surrounded by eleven young ladies, made
my heart sink. "Et le roi David deplut a l' Eternel," I heard in a
broad Scotch accent; and for the first time I looked closely at my
stable companions.
Mlle. de Mennecy allowed no one to argue with her; and our first
little brush took place after she informed me of this fact.
"But in that case, mademoiselle," said I, "how are any of us to
learn anything? I don't know how much the others know, but I know
nothing except what I've read; so, unless I ask questions, how am
I to learn?"
MLLE.
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