was a swan’s nest near.”
“Yes; and did not you, when you saw how the swan behaved? But I was aware of this nest before. Tom Creach has the care of the park swans; he made this nest, and he told me where it was. Let your cousins have a peep; and then we will go, before the poor swan grows too much frightened. And now, who will have a ride on my horse?”
All the children chose to ride; and, while Mr. Hope was coursing with them in turn, round and round the meadow, the young ladies proceeded along the bank. A quarter of a mile further on, they fell in with Sydney Grey and his friend Mr. Philip. They had been successful in their sport. Mr. Enderby had had enough of it, and was stretched on the grass reading, while Sydney stood on the roots of an old oak, casting his line into the pool beneath its shadow.
“So, here you are, quite safe!” said Sophia; “George Rowland might have come after all. Poor boy! I am glad he is not with us, he would be so mortified to see all the fish you have caught without him!”
“How many times have we been in the river, Sydney? Can you remember?” asked Mr. Enderby.
“I have seen no fish big enough to pull us in,” said Sydney; “and I do not know any other way of getting a wetting at this sport. Mrs. Rowland should have seen George and me climbing the old oak at the two-mile turning. I dared George to it, and there he hung over the water, at the end of the branch, riding up and down like a see-saw. She would think nothing of letting him go fishing after that.”
“If the branch had broken,” said Mr. Enderby, “what would you have done then?”
“Oh, it is not often that a branch breaks.”
“Old oaks are apt to break, sooner or later; and, the next time you dare George to see-saw over the river, I would advise you to consider beforehand how you would get him out, in case of his dropping in.”
“Oh, he is not afraid. One day lately, when the water was low, he offered to cross the weir at Dingleford. I did not persuade him to that; but he pulled off his shoes and stockings, and got over and back, safe enough.”
“Indeed! and you tried it too, I suppose?”
“Yes; it would be a shame if I could not do what George can. It was almost as easy as walking along this bank.”
“I shall talk to Master George, however, before he goes to Dingleford again, or he may chance to find it easier some day to miss his footing than to hold it.”
“I wonder Mrs. Rowland is afraid to let George go out with you,” said Sophia, “considering what things he does when you are not with him.”
“She does not know of these pranks, or she would feel as you do; and I hope every one here will be kind enough not to tell her. It would only be making her anxious to no purpose, whenever the boy is out of her sight. It would be a pity to make a coward of him; and I think I can teach him what is mischief and what is not, without disturbing her. Come, ladies, suppose you rest yourselves here; you will find a pleasant seat on this bank: at least, I fell asleep on it just now, as if I had been on a sofa.”
“I wish you would all go to sleep, or else walk off,” said Sydney. “You make so much noise I shall never catch any fish.”
“Suppose you were to go somewhere else,” said Mr. Enderby. “Would not that be rather more civil than sending us all away?”
Sydney thought he would find another place: there were plenty along the bank. He gathered up bait and basket, and trudged off. There was an amusement, however, which he liked better even than fishing; and for which he now surrendered it. He was presently seen cantering round the meadow on Mr. Hope’s horse.
Mr. Enderby hoped the Miss Ibbotsons were able to say “No” with decision. If not, he did not envy them their supper this evening; for Sydney would certainly ask them to eat all the fish he had caught—bream and dace and all. The first pleasure of young anglers is to catch these small fry; and the next is, to make their sisters and cousins eat them. Sophia solemnly assured her cousins that mamma never allowed Sydney’s fish to come to table, at least in the house. If the children liked to get the cook to boil them for their dolls’ feasts in the schoolroom, they might.
“And then Miss Young is favoured with a share, I suppose?” said Margaret.
“Have you made acquaintance with Miss Young yet?” inquired Mr. Enderby.
“Oh, yes! I had the pleasure of knowing Miss Young long before I knew you.”
“Long! how long? I was not aware that you had ever met. Where did you meet?”
“In the schoolroom, before breakfast—full four hours before you called this morning.”
“Oh, that is all you mean! I wondered how you should know her.”
Sophia asked whether Margaret and Miss Young were not going to study together: Margaret assented. Miss Young was kind enough to promise to help her to read German.
“And you?” said Mr. Enderby to Hester.
“Why, no; I am rather afraid of the undertaking.”
“And you, Miss Grey?”
“No. Mamma says, I have enough to do with my history and my music; especially while my cousins are here. I began German once, but mamma thought I was growing awry, and so I left it off. I find Mrs. Rowland means Matilda to learn German.”
“We are all disposed to have my little nieces learn whatever Miss Young will be kind enough to teach them; they will gain nothing but good from her.”
“She is very learned, to be sure,” observed Sophia.
“And something more than learned, I should think,” said Hester; “I fancy she is wise.”
“How can you have discovered that already?” asked Mr. Enderby, whose fingers were busy dissecting a stalk of flowering grass.
“I hardly know; I have nothing to quote for my opinion. Her conversation leaves a general impression of her being very sensible.”
“Sensible, as she is a woman,” observed Margaret; “if she were a man, she would be called philosophical.”
“She is very superior,” observed Sophia. “It was mamma’s doing that she is the children’s governess.”
“Philosophical!” repeated Mr. Enderby. “It is a happy thing that she is philosophical in her circumstances, poor thing!”
“As she happens to be unprosperous,” said Margaret, smiling. “If she were rich, and strong, and admired, her philosophy would be laughed at; it would only be in the way.”
Mr. Enderby sighed, and made no answer. Before any one spoke again, Mr. Hope and his little companions came up.
“How quiet you all are!” exclaimed Sydney. “I’ve a good mind to come and fish here again, if you will only go on to be so drowsy.”
Sophia declared that they had been talking, up to the last minute, about Miss Young, and learning German, and being philosophical.
“And which of the party have you made out to be the most philosophical?” inquired Mr. Hope.
“We have not so much as made out what philosophy is for,” said Hester; “can you tell us?”
As she looked up at Mr. Hope, who was standing behind her, Sydney thought her question was addressed to him. Swinging his fishing-rod round, he replied doubtfully that he thought philosophy was good to know how to do things. What sort of things? Why, to make phosphorus lights, and electrify people, as Dr. Levitt did, when he made Sophia jump off the stool with glass legs. Sophia was sure that any one else would have jumped off the stool as she did. She should take good care never to jump on it again. But she wondered Sydney did not know any better than that what philosophy was for. Her cousins said Miss Young was philosophical, and she had nothing to do with phosphorus or electrical machines.
Mr. Enderby explained to