When this was over, Ethel had to fetch her mending-basket, and Mary
her book of selections; the piece for to-day's lesson was the quarrel
of Brutus and Cassius; and Mary's dull droning tone was a trial to
her ears; she presently exclaimed, "Oh, Mary, don't murder it!"

"Murder what?" said Mary, opening wide her light blue eyes.

"That use of exaggerated language,--" began Miss Winter.

"I've heard papa say it," said Ethel, only wanting to silence Miss
Winter. In a cooler moment she would not have used the argument.

"All that a gentleman may say, may not be a precedent for a young
lady; but you are interrupting Mary."

"Only let me show her. I can't bear to hear her, listen, Mary.


"What shall one of us
That struck the foremost"--


"That is declaiming," said Miss Winter. "It is not what we wish for
in a lady. You are neglecting your work and interfering."

Ethel made a fretful contortion, and obeyed. So it went on all the
morning, Ethel's eagerness checked by Miss Winter's dry manner,
producing pettishness, till Ethel, in a state between self-reproach
and a sense of injustice, went up to prepare for dinner, and to visit
Margaret on the way.