These complacent reflections were chasing each other through the good lady’s brain as she sat in the attitude of solicitous attention during the opening cantata. A shrewd, keen, calculating woman with regard to every-day matters, such as school accounts, butchers’ bills, extras, and with a lynx eye for the failings and shortcomings of her flock, but where vanity whispered, and a possible (or impossible) husband loomed on her horizon, Miss Selina was a completely different character, and an absolute fool, as giddy, as credulous, as feather-headed as any of the young ladies meekly facing her behind these sheets of music--nay, worse, for has not every one heard the proverb--“There is no fool like an old one”? Far-seeing, crafty girls were clever enough to discover Miss Selina’s weak side, and to use their discovery to their own advantage. They plied her with compliments, ludicrously inappropriate. They called her “their own beautiful Miss Selina,” hinted that she had only to come, to be seen, and to conquer, etc., the result being that these wise young virgins were frequently invited to tea in the drawing-room, to supper in Mrs. Harper’s own private refectory, were taken to concerts, were “let off” on various occasions, and laughed at “Old Selina” (or Snappy) in their sleeve; called her a ridiculous goose, as ugly as sin, and as vain as a peacock. It is necessary to reveal the younger Miss Harper in her true colours in order to explain how a woman in her position could imagine for a moment that a young man would fall in love with her elderly charms, in spite of the overwhelming advantages possessed by at least twenty young rivals--her own pupils. She had long regarded the girls _en masse_ as her natural enemies, not as pretty creatures of from sixteen to eighteen years of age, with bright eyes, brilliant complexions, and angelic dispositions! She ticketed them in her own mind as disagreeable female children, with loud voices, voracious appetites, and sly ways. Nevertheless, she was reluctantly aware, that Madeline could be no longer considered a child, that some people considered her appearance pleasing! She stared hard at her now, where her black dress made a sort of blot among the snowy gowns of the first trebles. What a colour! was she rouged? She looked just like a doll. Doll or no doll, Miss Selina made a mental note that she should not be of the happy band who were going in to supper. She might be getting ideas into her mind--foolish ideas. People perhaps would notice her, as they had done last year, and turn her giddy head. The cantata came to a satisfactory conclusion. A fierce, tempestuous bravura, performed with desperate energy by a long-fingered young lady, succeeded it. Poor girl! she was trembling with terror as she sat down. What with the audience before her, and Herr Kroot behind her, she occupied the proverbial situation of being between the devil and the deep sea, and played with a courage that was absolutely reckless.