"It's not her body, Gordon, it's her mind. She's a dear child, but she's growing so old-fashioned and sedate, she's more like a little old woman than a girl of scarcely eleven. Louisa says it's most unhealthy." "I wish Louisa would mind her own business," said Mr. Lindsay, frowning; "I can't see anything amiss with Sylvia. I think her old-fashioned ways are particularly charming." "Yet they are not natural at her age. She's living in a world of dreams and make-believe. Books are all very well, but it's not good for her to be entirely buried in them." "She has a strong imagination," replied Mr. Lindsay, "a thing Louisa can never appreciate. She inherits it from me, and I fully sympathize with her funny little pretendings." "Yes, when pretendings don't take the place of real life. Sylvia has been such a solitary child, so accustomed to play by herself and make her own amusements, that she has almost lost the desire for young companions." "I thought she had plenty of friends. Didn't I meet some of them going away yesterday as I returned home?" "Yes, but she doesn't enjoy having them here. I should be sorry, Gordon, to believe our darling was selfish." "That she most certainly is not!" declared Mr. Lindsay emphatically. "Not with us, but I'm afraid she doesn't like her small plans disturbed by other children. She's not very ready to give up her own way; indeed I was obliged to scold her yesterday for reading a book instead of entertaining her visitors." "She gets absorbed in her books." "Too much so. She needs to be made to run about more. She's such a gentle little mouse, she always prefers quiet games to a romp. It's not healthy for a child to live continually with only grown-up people. We've thought so earnestly about her education, and she has been taught so carefully and well, that I really believe we've given her a kind of mental indigestion!" Mr. Lindsay laughed. "She's very bright for her age," he said. "She can talk about botany and antiquities as well or better than many an older person. I'd rather have Sylvia for a companion than half the people I know." "But she mustn't turn out a prig, and I fear she's in sad danger of doing so if we don't take matters in hand at once. Intellectual interests are delightful, and we want her to have them, but they hardly supply the place of tennis and rounders at eleven years of age. She's far too thin and pale and fragile looking. Louisa says we have been developing her mind at the expense of her body." Mr. Lindsay groaned and wrinkled up his forehead into lines and puckers. "What does Louisa propose that we should do then?" he enquired. "I've no doubt she has some plan to suggest." "She thinks Sylvia ought to be sent away to school." "Then there is plenty of time to talk it over before Christmas." "Not at Christmas. At once. The September term has only just begun, and it's not at all too late." "Whew! But what about Miss Holt? We couldn't pack her off at a moment's notice."