“Ain’t we? It was just in time for the skating,” said Jock. “Only the worst of it is, everybody will come to the lake, and so mother won’t learn to skate. We thought we had found a jolly little place in the wood, where we could have had some fun with her, but they found it out, though we halloed as loud as ever we could to keep them off.” “Can your mother skate?” “No, you see she never had a chance at home. Father was so busy, and we were so little; but she’d learn. Mother Carey can learn anything, if one could hinder her Serene Highness from pitching into her. I say, Miss Ogilvie, you’ll give her leave to skate, won’t you?” he asked in an insinuating tone. “I give her leave!” “She always says she’ll ask you when we want her to be jolly and not mind her Serene Highness.” Mary avoided pledging herself, and Jock’s attention was diverted to the dog, who was rising on his hind legs, vainly trying to look out of the window; and his history, told with great gusto by Jock, lasted till they reached home. The drawing-room was full of girls about their lessons as usual--sums, exercises, music, and grammar all going on at once! but Caroline put an end to them, and sent the Kencroft party home at once in the carriage. “So you have not dropped the old trade?” said Mary. “I couldn’t. Ellen is not strong enough yet to have the children on her hands all day. I said I’d be responsible for them till Easter, and I dare say you won’t mind helping me through it as the beginning of everything. Will you condescend? You know I want to be your pupil too.” “You can be no one’s pupil but your own, my dear! no one’s on earth, I mean.” “Oh, don’t! I know that, Mary. I’m trying and trying to be their pupil still. Indeed I am! It makes me patient of Robert, and his fearful responsibility, and his good little sister, to know that my husband always thought him right, and meant him to look after me. But as one lives on, those dear voices seem to get farther and farther away, as if one was drifting more out of reach in the fog. I do hate myself for it, but I can’t help it.” “Is there not a voice that can never go out of reach, and that brings you nearer to them?” “You dear old Piety, Prudence, and Charity all in one! That is if you have the charity to come and infuse a little of your piety and prudence into me. You know you could always make me mind you, and you’ll make me--what is it that Mrs. Coffinkey says?--a credit to my position before you’ve done. I’ve had your room got ready; won’t you come and take off your things?” “I think, if you don’t object, I had better sleep at the schoolhouse, and come up here after David’s breakfast.” “Very well; I won’t try to rob him of you more than can be helped. Though you know he would be welcome here every evening if he liked.” “Thank you very much, I can help him more at home; but I’ll come for the whole day, for I am sure you must have a great deal on your hands.”