s; simply, I believe, with the wish
to stimulate her to excel. I am sure Madame much preferred Eleanor to
Lucy, as a matter of liking.

"Behold, Mademoiselle!" said she, holding up one of Lucy's latest
copies, just glorified with a wide aureole of white cardboard
"mounting"; "what do you think of this?"

"It is very like Mr. Henley's," said Eleanor warmly. "Lucy has taken
great pains, I'm sure. It's quite as good as the copy, I think."

"But what do you think of it?" said Madame impatiently; she was too
quick-witted to be easily "put off." "Is it not beautiful?"

"It is very smart, very gay," said Eleanor, who began to lose her
temper. "All Mr. Henley's sketches are gay. The thatch on the house
reminds me of the 'ends' of Berlin wool that are kept, after a big piece
of work, for kettle-holders. The yellow tree and the blue tree are very
pretty: there always is a yellow tree and a blue tree in Mr. Henley's
sketches. I don't know what kind of trees they are. I never do. The
trunks are pink, but that doesn't help one, for the markings on them are
always the same."

Eleanor's French was quite good enough to give this speech its full
weight, as Madame's kindling eyes testified. She flung the drawing from
her, and was bursting forth into reply, when, by good luck, Miss
Mulberry called for her so impatiently that she was obliged to leave the
room.

I had been repeating a lesson to Miss Ellen Mulberry, who lay on a couch
near the window, but we had both paused involuntarily to listen to
Eleanor and Madame.

Miss Ellen was very good. She was also very gentle, and timid to
nervousness. But from her couch she saw a good deal of the daily life of
the school, and often understood matters better than those who were in
the thick of it, I think.

When Madame had left the room, she called Eleanor to her, and in an
almost trembling voice said:

"My dear, do you think you are quite right to speak so to Madame about
that drawing?"

"I am very sorry, Miss Ellen," said Eleanor; "but it's what I think, and
she asked me what I thought."

"You are very clever, my dear," said Miss Ellen, "and no one knows
better than yourself that there are more ways than one of expressing
one's opinion."

"Indeed," Eleanor broke in, "I don't want to be rude. I'm sorry I did
speak so pertly. But oh, Miss Ellen, I wish you could see the trees my
mother draws! How can I say I like those things of Mr. Henley's? Like
green seaweeds on the end of a p