‘Yes. While we were wandering, they did not get enough to make it a very arduous task, and now I find that they want weeding. If children read nothing but a multitude of stories rather beneath their capacity, they are likely never to exert themselves to anything beyond novel reading.’ ‘That is quite true, I believe.’ ‘Well, among this literature of Dolly’s I found no less than four stories based on the cruelty and injustice suffered by orphans from their aunts. The wicked step-mothers are gone out, and the barbarous aunts are come in. It is the stock subject. I really think it is cruel, considering that there are many children who have to be adopted into uncles’ families, to add to their distress and terror, by raising this prejudice. Just look at this one’--taking up Dolly’s favourite, ‘Clare; or No Home’--‘it is not at all badly written, which makes it all the worse.’ ‘Oh, Aunt Lilias,’ cried Bessie, whose colour had been rising all this time. ‘How shall I tell you? I wrote it!’ ‘You! I never guessed you did anything in that line.’ ‘We don’t talk about it. My father knows, and so does grandmamma, in a way; but I never bring it before her if I can help it, for she does not half like the notion. But, indeed, they aren’t all as bad as that! I know now there is a great deal of silly imitation in it; but I never thought of doing harm in this way. It is a punishment for thoughtlessness,’ cried poor Bessie, reddening desperately, and with tears in her eyes. ‘My dear, I am so sorry I said it! If I bad not one of these aunts, I should think it a very effective story.’ ‘I’m afraid that’s so much the worse! Let me tell you about it, Aunt Lilias. At home, they always laughed at me for my turn for dismalities.’ ‘I believe one always has such a turn when one is young.’ ‘Well, when I went to live with grandmamma, it was very different from the houseful at home, I had so much time on my hands, and I took to dreaming and writing because I could not help it, and all my stories were fearfully doleful. I did not think of publishing them for ever so long, but at last when David terribly wanted some money for his mission church, I thought I would try, and this Clare was about the best. They took it, and gave me five pounds for it, and I was so pleased and never thought of its doing harm, and now I don’t know how much more mischief it may have done!’ ‘You only thought of piling up the agony! But don’t be unhappy about it. You don’t know how many aunts it may have warned.’ ‘I’m afraid aunts are not so impressionable as nieces. And, indeed, among ourselves story-books seemed quite outside from life, we never thought of getting any ideas from them any more than from Bluebeard.’ ‘So it has been with some of mine, while, on the other hand, Dolores seemed to Mysie an interesting story-book heroine--which indeed she is, rather too much so. But you have not stood still with Clare.’