"Then, mama, why do you keep one?"
"Don't ask such silly questions, Sabina Jane."
A servant entered. "Mrs. Finley, here are the notes that have come in since you went out." Mrs. Finley took them eagerly. She had sent out invitations for a party, and she was anxious to know who had accepted and who refused. The first she opened was from the teacher of her only son Arthur William, informing her that Master Arthur was behind-hand in all his studies, and that, unless his lessons were superintended at home, he feared he must dismiss the boy, as the reputation of his school depended on the progress of his scholars.
"This is too bad," said Mrs. Finley; "I wonder what we pay him for but to teach? Mr. Beltam always said Arthur was a prodigy when he went to his school."
"But, mamma, you said Arthur could not read when he had been to Mr. Beltam's two years."
"What's that to the purpose, miss? Mr. Beltam never sent in any complaints. I will not make myself a slave to looking after your lessons at home; I have not health for it: besides, your father and I never studied Latin, and French, and philosophy, and them things."
"I wonder what you did study, mother?"
"For shame, Sabina Jane! I am sure your father understands every kind of arithmetic."
"Does he, mother? I did not know he understood any thing."
