“‘Basement? What a pity! Basement rooms are awfully bad,’ and by the time you have stopped them exclaiming and are just going to begin, you see that they are fidgetting and thinking about something else.” ... Eve had listened a little; because she wanted to tell everything about her own place and had agreed that nobody really wanted to hear the details.... The landscapes from the windows of the big country house, all like pictures by Leader, the stables and laundry, a “laundry-maid” who was sixty-five, the eldest pupil with seven muslin dresses in the summer and being scolded because she swelled out after two helpings of meat and two of pie and cream, and the youngest almost square in her little covert coat and with a square face and large blue eyes and the puppies who went out in a boat in Weston-super-Mare and were sea-sick.... Eve did not seem to mind the family being common. Eve was changing. “They are so jolly and strong. They enjoy life. They’re like other people.” ... “D’you think that’s jolly? Would you like to be like that--like other people?” “Rather. I mean to be.” “Do you?” “Of course it can’t be done all at once. But it’s good for me to be there. It’s awfully jolly to be in a house with no worry about money and plenty of jolly food. Mrs. Green is so strong and clever. She can do anything. She’s good for me, she keeps me going.” “Would you like to be like her?” “Of course. They’re all so jolly--even when they’re old. Her sister’s forty and she’s still pretty; not given up hope a bit.” “_Eve!_” Eve had listened; but not agreed about the teaching, about making the girls see how easy it was to get hold of the things and then letting them talk about other things. “I see how you do it, and I see why the girls obey you, of course.” Funny. Eve thought it was hard and inhuman. That’s what she really thought.