The two sisters had to go to their different classes in the afternoon, and wanted Agatha to go with them; but it was a very warm day, and she preferred resting in the garden, and, to Magdalen’s surprise and pleasure, conversation with her. At first it was about Oxford matters, very interesting, but public and external to the home, and it did not draw the cords materially closer; but when Thekla had privately decided that even hanging upon the newly recovered Nag was not worth the endurance of anything so tedious, and had gone off to assist her beloved old gardener in gathering green gooseberries, Magdalen observed that she was a very pleasant little pupil, and was getting on very well, especially with arithmetic. “That was the strong point in the junior classes,” said Agatha; “better taught than it was in my time.” “I wish she could have more playfellows,” said Magdalen. “She would like to go to the High School at Rockquay, but there are foundations I should wish to lay before having her out of my own hands.” “I should think you were her best playfellow. She seems very fond of you, and very happy.” “Yes,” said Magdalen, rather wistfully. “I think she generally is so.” “Maidie! may I call you by the old home name?” And as Magdalen answered with a kiss and tearful smile, “Do tell me, please, if Polly and Flapsy are nice to you?” Magdalen was taken by surprise at the pressure of the hand and the eyes that gazed into her face full of expression. She could not keep the drops from rushing to her own eyes, though she smiled through them and said, “As nice as they know how.” “I am afraid I know what that means,” said Agatha. “If I only knew how to prevent their looking on me as their governess,” continued Magdalen; “but I must have got into the groove, and I suppose I do not always remember how much must be tolerated if love has to be won; and Paula is a thoroughly good girl.” “Yes, I am sure she wishes to be,” said Agatha. “Are those Sisters nice that she talks of so eagerly?” “They are very excellent women, but somehow I should have had more confidence in them if they were not unattached, or belonged to some regular Sisterhood. I wish she had taken instead to Mysie Merrifield, who is more of my sort; but no one can control those likings.” “I don’t think Gillian very attractive; she is so wrapped up in her work,” confessed Agatha. “You will see them all, I hope, for I am giving a garden party next week, perhaps. Have not they told you?” “Oh, yes; but Polly seemed bent on its not clashing with some festival at St. Kenelm’s.” “Therefore I had not fixed the day till I had heard what is settled. I have invited people for Thursday, which will hardly interfere.” “Did you know that the young man who is painting the ceiling at St. Kenelm’s Church is old Mr. Delrio’s son Hubert?”