e, where she went for her holidays, and
any little details of that sort."

For over half an hour the two girls scribbled away busily, and a good
deal more paper had to be torn from the exercise-book before their
literary labours were at an end.

Margaret, in addition to her own written hints for Eleanor's guidance,
was able to give the latter a folded sheet of notepaper which her
grandfather had ordered her to convey to Mrs. Murray. On one side of it
was carefully written out a table of the hours of study which Margaret
had been accustomed to observe hitherto, and on the other he had sketched
a plan of the way in which he wished her days to be filled while she was
with Mrs. Murray. Eleanor was pleased to observe that by far the greater
part of the day was to be spent with Madame Martelli, and though the
study of Italian occupied more time than singing, Eleanor was confident
that she could soon alter that.

"But I am not at all sure," she said, with a slight grimace, as she read
through the list of what Margaret had been used to do, "if I shall be
able to maintain your character as easily as I thought. For you are a
very learned person, Margaret, and if I am put through an examination as
soon as I arrive, I don't know where I shall be. No," as Margaret opened
her lips to protest, "I am not fishing. It is a fact that my education is
miles behind yours, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Mrs. Murray
found that out straightaway."

"She will only think that I--that you, I mean--have a very bad memory,"
Margaret said encouragingly. "Besides, she is deaf, and, from what
grandfather said, not very fond of conversation. She will only expect
you to say Yes and No to her, for she will know that that was all
grandfather expected me to say to him."

"Is that all you were supposed to say to him," Eleanor asked in blank
astonishment.

"That is all. Until about a year ago I thought grandchildren and sons and
daughters never did say more than that to their parents; but, of course,
I know now that they do."

"Well, I should imagine so," Eleanor remarked. "You have been brought up
in the style of one hundred years ago, and yet, except for a certain
quaintness in your speech, one would not think you very different from
any girl brought up in the ordinary way."

"Is my speech quaint?" Margaret asked in dismay.

"It's nothing to worry about," Eleanor said consolingly. "Perhaps it is
only because you don't talk a word of slang t