support in display.

She was also generous. Everybody knew that she had paid Dick Socknersh
thirty shillings for the two weeks that he was out of work after leaving
her--before he went as cattleman to an inland farm--and she had found
the money for Martha Tilden's wedding, and for her lying-in a month
afterwards, and some time later she had helped Peter Relf with ready
cash to settle his debts and move himself and his wife and baby to West
Wittering, where he had the offer of a place with three shillings a week
more than they gave at Honeychild.

She might have indulged herself still further in this way, which
gratified both her warm heart and her proud head, if she had not wanted
so much to send Ellen to a good school. The school at Rye was all very
well, attended by the daughters of tradesmen and farmers, and taught by
women whom Joanna recognized as ladies; but she had long dreamed of
sending her little sister to a really good school at Folkestone--where
Ellen would wear a ribbon round her hat and go for walks in a long
procession of two-and-two, and be taught wonderful, showy and intricate
things by ladies with letters after their names--whom Joanna despised
because she felt sure they had never had a chance of getting married.

She herself had been educated at the National School, and from six to
fourteen had trudged to and fro on the Brodnyx road, learning to read
and write and reckon and say her catechism.... But this was not good
enough for Ellen. Joanna had made up her mind that Ellen should be a
lady; she was pretty and lazy and had queer likes and dislikes--all
promising signs of vocation. She would never learn to care for Ansdore,
with its coarse and crowding occupations, so there was no reason why she
should grow up like her sister in capable commonness. Half unconsciously