“Mother, mother, do you think that is what interests Miss Crediton?” said John, with that quick sense of his parents’ imperfections which is so common to the young. A Roman camp on the one side, and the old women in the village on the other, proposed as amusement for this bright-eyed fairy creature, to whom every joy and rapture that the world possessed must come natural! Did not music seem to come up about her out of the very earth as she walked, and everything to dance before her, and the flowers to give out sweeter odours, and the very sun to shine more warmly? John was not learned in delights, any more than his father and mother, but yet nothing less than the superlative was good enough for her--to preside over tournaments, and give prizes of love and beauty; to be the queen of the great festivals of poetry; to have everything indefinite and sweet and splendid laid at her feet. It was so strange that they should not understand! “I shall delight in seeing the old women,” said Kate, with a laugh, which he thought was addressed to him; “but, indeed, I don’t think I can teach anything--I am so dreadfully ignorant. You can’t think how ignorant I am. We have a school at Fernwood, and I went once and they gave me sums to look over--sums, Mrs Mitford--only fancy! and I was to tell if they were right or wrong. It was little chits of eight or nine that had done them, and I could not have done one for my life; so, please, I can’t pretend to teach.” “My dear,” said Mrs Mitford, beaming upon her with maternal eyes, “you are not a clergyman’s wife.” “Thank heaven!” said Kate; and then it occurred to her that she had been rude, and the colour stole to her cheek. “Oh, I beg your pardon; I did not mean to be impertinent.” “You were not impertinent, my dear,” said Mrs Mitford, with a sigh. “I daresay you are quite right. One likes one’s own lot best, you know; but unless you took to it, there could not be much pleasure in being a clergyman’s wife.” “Oh, please, don’t think I was rude,” cried Kate, “to you, dear Mrs Mitford, that have been so very, very good to me! All I thought was, that perhaps--nowadays,--but never mind what nonsense came into my head. May I go to see Lizzie’s mother? I have been hearing so much about her, and about the trouble they have with the big lads.” “My dear, that is not amusement for a young lady,” said Dr Mitford. “If you will come with me, Miss Crediton, I assure you, you will like it better. I will drive you to the Roman camp. There are some measurements I want to verify. I am writing a paper for the Archæological Society, and they are sad fellows to pick holes in one’s coat. You must tell them, John, to have the phaeton out, and I will drive Miss Crediton over to Dulchester this afternoon. We could not have a more charming day.”