could speak. “I’m glad, because I think that, for an old person, you have a good deal of sense. I suppose my education has to be seen to, some time or other, and I’d rather you'd do it than anybody else I know.”
“Thank you, Betty,” I said gravely. “I hope I shall deserve your good opinion of my sense. I shall expect you to do as I tell you, and be guided by my advice in everything.”
“Yes, I will,” said Betty, “because I’m sure you won't tell me to do anything I’d really hate to do. You won't shut me up in a room and make me sew, will you? Because I won't do it.”
I assured her I would not.
“Nor send me to a boarding-school,” pursued Betty. “Mother’s always threatening to send me to one. I suppose she would have done it before this, only she knew I’d run away. You won't send me to a boarding-school, will you, Stephen? Because I won’t go.”
“No,” I said obligingly, “I won’t. I should never dream of cooping a wild little thing, like you, up in a boarding-school. You'd fret your heart out like a caged skylark.”
“I know you and I are going to get along together splendidly, Stephen,” said Betty, rubbing her brown cheek chummily against my shoulder. “You are so good at understanding. Very few people are.
