sure you'll soon become friends," said Aunt Agatha, after Lucy,
Mary, Edgar, Donald, Frank, Cuthbert, Dorothy, and the baby had all been
duly presented. "You're to have lessons in the school-room from Miss
Masterman. I've spoken to her about your work. I believe your father
mentioned that you hadn't yet begun either French or music. And, Blair,
I should like you to go over her clothes after breakfast. I must
arrange for Miss Jenkins to come at once for a few days' sewing. Be sure
she drinks plenty of milk with her porridge, and be careful she doesn't
get into draughts just at first, as she's accustomed to a warmer
climate."

Blair was a power in the household. She managed her nursery with the
tactics of a general, reducing small rebels to a state of submission
with admirable skill, and keeping order among her noisy little crew with
a firm though just hand. She might not always be exactly pleasant, but
on the whole her moral atmosphere was like an east wind, bracing, though
a little trying at times. She accepted an addition to her numerous
charges with grim philosophy.

"You'll soon shake down among the others," she said to me, not unkindly.
"It seems queer to you, I dare say, after living in a foreign country,
with black servants and outlandish cookery, but there's everything in
habit, and with plenty of lessons to keep you busy, you'll have no time
to fret."

Just at first I certainly found the shaking-down process rather a rough
one. It was all so utterly different from my old life. Accustomed to
spend most of my time with my father, I thought it hard to be
restricted to the nursery and school-room, and instead of being the
centre of my little world, to be only one of a flock who were not
favoured with many indulgences.

My aunt, I am sure, did her very best for me according to her lights,
and perhaps she thought that I should settle all the sooner if I were
left judiciously alone, but, looking back now upon her upbringing, I
think she might have shown me more tenderness. She was a tall, handsome
woman, with a capable manner, and what she called "sensible" views of
life. If she had ever cherished any illusions, they had long ago worn
down to the level of strict commonplace. Though she loved her children,
in her practical, unsentimental way, they were to her always "the
children", to be ruled and reared, clothed and educated, but never in
any respect her companions; and a friendship between two people of
widely di