shyest horses, and petting them, and patting them, and feeding them with
bread all the time that her father held converse with Dixon. When he was
finally gone--and sometimes it was a long time first--she returned to the
schoolroom to Miss Monro, and tried to set herself hard at work on her
lessons. But she had not much time for steady application; if her father
had cared for her progress in anything, she would and could have worked
hard at that study or accomplishment; but Mr. Wilkins, the ease and
pleasure loving man, did not wish to make himself into the pedagogue, as
he would have considered it, if he had ever questioned Ellinor with a
real steady purpose of ascertaining her intellectual progress. It was
quite enough for him that her general intelligence and variety of
desultory and miscellaneous reading made her a pleasant and agreeable
companion for his hours of relaxation.

At twelve o'clock, Ellinor put away her books with joyful eagerness,
kissed Miss Monro, asked her if they should go a regular walk, and was
always rather thankful when it was decided that it would be better to
stroll in the garden--a decision very often come to, for Miss Monro hated
fatigue, hated dirt, hated scrambling, and dreaded rain; all of which are
evils, the chances of which are never far distant from country walks. So
Ellinor danced out into the garden, worked away among her flowers, played
at the old games among the roots of the trees, and, when she could,
seduced Dixon into the flower-garden to have a little consultation as to
the horses and dogs. For it was one of her father's few strict rules
that Ellinor was never to go into the stable-yard unless he were with
her; so these _tete-a-tetes_ with Dixon were always held in the flower-
garden, or bit of forest ground surrounding it. Miss Monro sat and
basked in the sun, close to the dial, which made the centre of the gay
flower-beds, upon which the dining-room and study windows looked.