"Come, Elma, what are you looking so thoughtful about?" asked Mrs.
Steward in an impatient voice.

"Nothing, Aunt Charlotte," replied Elma, rising to her feet. "I am ready to go," she added. She sighed as she spoke.

"You must give up that unpleasant habit, my dear child. Nothing irritates me more than hearing people sigh. It always seems as if they were discontented and ungrateful to Providence. Now, what have you, for instance, to sigh about? A singularly fortunate girl, a girl who possesses an aunt who is willing to take a mother's duties upon her shoulders. If it were that wretched, vulgar Carrie now, or even my poor sister herself; but you, Elma, don't let me think that you are ungrateful to me or I wash my hands of you on the spot."

"Oh, I am nothing of the kind indeed, Aunt Charlotte," replied Elma. "I always have felt that you—you were more than good to me."

"Well, my dear that's as it should be. I honor your feelings. I often say to myself and to your uncle-in-law—remember he is not your real uncle, Elma, but your uncle-in-law, my dear husband, the rector of St. Bartholomew's—'John,' I say, 'if Elma doesn't show gratitude for all I am doing for her I shall once and for all give up the human race. I shall never again expect right feeling from any one." But of course you are grateful, Elma; you will be the comfort of my old age. You will be as my own child to me. I—I sometimes think, my dear, that when your education is finished and you are turned into a refined, highly-cultivated, highly-trained woman, I will keep you with me. You shall be my companion, my housekeeper, the one who is to read aloud to me, to sit with me in the long evenings when my sight begins to fail. My eyes do ache at times, my dear, I have thought of all that. You will be my adopted child; not that I can leave you anything in my will, but I would provide a home for you while I am left in this tabernacle of the flesh. What do you say, Elma, eh?"

"It is too soon to say anything at present," answered Elma, to whom this prospect was the reverse of charming. To live as her aunt's unsalaried companion could not be attractive to her; but she wisely concluded that sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof, and she had yet to be educated and brought to that calm of spirit and strain of intellect which would satisfy Aunt Charlotte.

"Come now at once," said the good lady, who suddenly from being in a very cross temper became in the best of humor. "We have just nice time to go across to the school, and then after we have seen Miss Sherrard to return here for you to pack your things. What do you say, Elma, to our both staying in London to-night? It would be a pleasant treat for you, and there may be a few little things necessary to add to your wardrobe, which I shall have much pleasure in providing you with. Elma, you are in rare luck. When I think of all I am doing for you I feel that you have indeed much to be thankful for."

"Yes, Aunt Charlotte," echoed Elma, but her voice sounded faint, and she brought out her words with an effort.

Leaning on her niece's arm, Mrs. Steward now pursued her way to Middleton School. Alas! her journey there quickly dissipated her lately acquired good-humor. She had not gone one hundred yards before she complained of the dust of the roads, she had not gone two before her anger was great at the length of the way, and when she found that it was necessary to mount uphill her complaints became loud grievances—in short, by the time she really arrived at the school she was in as bad a temper as Elma had ever seen her in.

"What it is to have a great girl like you hanging on to one, dependent on one!" she cried. "It was most inconsiderate of Caroline to marry as she did, and she now even complains when I blame her for it. She is an extraordinary person. If she had remained single she might have been living comfortably with me at St. Bartholomew's rectory, and you and Carrie would never have been in the world plaguing your relatives."

"Well, you see we are in the world," said poor Elma, who felt that she must just show the faintest spark of spirit. "We did not ask to be born," she added, "so I don't see that we are to be blamed."

Mrs. Steward favored her with a sharp glance.

"Elma," she said, "if you indulge in pertness I shall wash my hands of you. Now, here we are. Have the goodness to ring the bell."

The great school door was opened presently by a neat-looking maid-servant, and Mrs. Steward inquired in a tart voice if Miss Sherrard was in."

"She is, ma'am," replied the girl; "but she is particularly engaged at this moment. Oh, is that you, Miss Lewis?" she continued. "Miss Sherrard is just sending for you, miss; but I don't think the messenger has gone yet. I'll run and stop him. Will you walk inside, ma'am!"

"A messenger for me!" murmured Elma. She felt terribly uncomfortable; her face grew whiter than ever.

"Will you have the goodness to tell your mistress that I wish to speak to her at once," said Mrs. Steward; "that I am in a hurry, and cannot be kept waiting? Pray mention my name, Mrs. Steward, from St. Bartholomew's Rectory, Buckinghamshire."

The girl promised to do so, and withdrew. She soon returned to say that Miss Sherrard would be pleased to see both Mrs. Steward and Miss Lewis in her private room.

"I wish to see Miss Sherrard alone," said Mrs. Steward. "Remain where you are, Elma." Mrs. Steward sailed out of the room, and poor Elma sank down on the nearest chair.

"If Miss Sherrard has sent for me she must know something," thought the wretched girl. "Oh! how am I to live through it? She will tell Aunt Charlotte and then all my prospects are over."

Meanwhile Mrs. Steward sailed down the passage with a dignity and majesty of demeanor which impressed Miss Sherrard's neat handmaid considerably. The next instant she was ushered into the school-mistress' presence.

Miss Sherrard looked troubled; she came forward to meet Mrs. Steward very gravely, and, motioning with her hand to a chair, asked her to seat herself. Mrs. Steward stared for a moment at the head-mistress, and the head-mistress stared back at her. At last Mrs. Steward said glibly:

"I am sorry to take up any of your valuable time, Miss Sherrard; but I think I can explain my errand in a few words. I am about to remove my niece, Elma Lewis, from the school."

"Indeed, I am heartily glad to hear it," answered Miss Sherrard, visible relief both in her tone and face.

"What an extraordinary remark for you to make! But I will pass it by, for I am in a considerable hurry. I have heard of an admirable school in Germany to which I intend to send my niece. Not that I have the least objection to your mode of teaching, Miss Sherrard, nor to this very celebrated school; but of course when it comes to foreign languages you cannot compare England to the Continent."
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