"Of course Miss Crane is very clever, Uncle Barton, but----" she began tentatively. "She ought to be clever," interrupted the old man. "I don't pay her a pound a week for nothing. Go on, Julia, but what----?" "She is too severe; she starves the child. The poor boy is allowed no tea, very little meat, and not even a biscuit between meals. She insists upon his taking cold baths, although he is far too delicate for them; and every day she nearly walks him off his feet. Then she won't teach him his lessons in the schoolroom, but is ridiculous enough to make him read to her in the garden." "What a mistaken _régime_, Julia, yet under it Dicky is growing and improving every day. Any other complaints?" "She doesn't make him study enough." "Ah, she teaches him from the book of nature you see, and so relieves his congested brain--quite right. I don't believe in cramming a delicate lad like that. You let him read what he liked, Julia, and the poor little chap was positively getting literary indigestion." "Well, at all events, I don't approve of Miss Crane." "I never thought you would." "She dresses ridiculously--quite above her station." "Oh, but you see, she is a pretty woman, eh?" Mrs. Darrow tossed her head disdainfully. "Pretty, indeed! with that red hair and pasty complexion! It is extraordinary how you men like these unhealthy women." Then, after a pause, "But she doesn't like you!" "H'm! who does?" "I do"--this with a most fascinating smile. "I love you!" "Ah!" Barton chuckled. "You are so tender-hearted. I tell you what, Julia, I am beginning to think I did very wrong to interfere with Dicky's education at all. As his mother you have more right to manage him than I. I've a good mind to send away Miss Crane, and you can engage a twenty-pound governess--to be paid out of your income." "Oh no, don't send Miss Crane away. I really think, with a hint or two from me, she will do very well. But she is peculiar, to say the least of it. Tell me, uncle, who is Miss Crane?" "She is Miss Crane, that is all I know." "Has she a past?" "Seeing that she is some twenty-five years of age, naturally." "Yes, but----" Mrs. Darrow hesitated, not quite knowing how to put it. "Well, as you seem to think, she is not bad-looking, and there is John, you know, and Gerald." "Well?" "They may fall in love with her." "What--both of them? At all events they have not seen her yet, so suppose we postpone discussion of that contingency?" "Well!" Mrs. Darrow's expression and gestures spoke volumes, "I warn you; don't say I haven't warned you. Mark me, there is something queer about Miss Crane. I am not a suspicious woman, and I like to think well of everybody; but Miss Crane--well, you take my word for it, she'll astonish us all some day! Queer, yes, I should think she _was_ queer!"