se of imprisonment, but no
desire to sing. The window looked upon a walled yard, in which
fifteen girls of various ages were walking through some kind of drill
under an instructress whose appearance puzzled her until she
remembered that Miss Dickinson's cook was "busy for the moment."

Corona watched their movements with an interest begotten of pity.
The girls whispered and prinked, and exchanged confidences with
self-conscious airs. They paid but a perfunctory attention to the
drill. It was clear they despised their instructress. Yet they
seemed happy enough in a way.

"I wonder why?" thought Corona. "I don't like Miss Dickinson; first,
because she has the nose of a witch, and next because she is afraid
of us. I think she is afraid of us because we're poor. Well, I'm
not afraid of her--not really; but I'd feel mighty uncomfortable if
she had dear old daddy in there alone instead of Uncle Copas."

Meanwhile in the drawing-room--likewise resonant with canaries--Miss
Dickinson was carefully helping Brother Copas to understand that as a
rule she excluded all but children of the upper classes.

"It is not--if you will do me so much credit--that I _look down_ upon
the others; but I find that the children themselves are not so
happy when called upon to mix with those of a different station.
The world, after all, is the world, and we must face facts as they
are."

"You mean, ma'am, that your young ladies--or some of them--might twit
Corona for having a father who wears the Beauchamp robe."

"I would not say _that_. . . . In fact I have some influence over
them, it is to be hoped, and should impress upon them beforehand that
the--er--subject is not to be alluded to."

"That would be extremely tactful," said Brother Copas.

He rose.

"Pray be seated. . . . As I dare say you know, Mr.--"

"Copas."

"--As I dare say you know, Mr. Copas, higher education in England
just now is passing through a--er--phase: it is (to use a forcible,
if possibly vulgar, expression) in a state of flux. I do not conceal
from myself that this must be largely attributed to the Education Act
of 1902."

"Ah!"

Brother Copas dived finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket in
search of his snuff-box, but, recollecting himself, withdrew them
hastily.

"Mr Balfour, whether he meant it or no, hit the private-venture
schools beyond a doubt."

"One may trust that it is but a temporary blow. I have, let me say,
the utmost confidence