The Rectory Children | Page 4

way. And
many clergymen's families are very simple and homely.'
'I wonder if there are any little girls,' said Celestina. 'And do you think
they'll go to Miss Peters's to school, mother?'
Her father turned on her rather sharply.
'Dear me, no, child. Of course not,' he said. 'Miss Peters's is well
enough for plain Seacove folk, but don't you be getting any nonsense in
your head of setting up to be the same as ladies' children. Mrs. Vane
comes of a high family, I hear; there will be a French ma'amselle of a
governess as like as not.'
Celestina looked at her father with a world of puzzle in her eyes, her
little pale face with a red spot of excitement on each cheek. But she was
not the least hurt by her father's words. She simply did not understand
them: what are called 'class distinctions' were quite unknown to her
innocent mind. Had she been alone with her mother she might have
asked for some explanation, but she was too much in awe of her father
to question him.
Her mother turned to her somewhat abruptly.
'I want some more water; the kettle, Celestina love,' she said; and as the
little girl brought it, 'I will explain to you afterwards, but don't say any
more. Father is tired,' she whispered.
And Celestina quickly forgot all about it; the sight of Eleanor and Amy
still reposing on the hearthrug as she replaced the kettle drove out of
her mind all thoughts of the possible little Misses Vane.
After tea, when the things were cleared away and Celestina had helped
her mother to make the room look neat and comfortable again, fox the
little servant in the kitchen was seldom seen in the parlour, as she
fidgeted Mr. Fairchild by her awkward clattering ways, Mrs. Fairchild
went upstairs to fetch some sewing that needed seeing to.

'I will look for a scrap or two for you,' she said to Celestina as she went.
'But I'm not sure that you should sew any more to-night. It's trying for
your eyes.'
'And what about your sums, child?' said her father. 'Have you done all I
set you?'
'Yes, father, and I've read the chapter of Little Arthur's History too,'
Celestina replied.
'Well, then,' said Mr. Fairchild, drawing his chair nearer to the table
again--he had pushed it close to the fire--'bring your slate and your
books. I'll correct the sums and set you some more, and then we'll have
a little history. I will question you first on the chapter you have read to
yourself.'
Celestina could not help an appealing glance at her mother--she had the
two little dolls in her hand, poor Amy still looking very deplorable in
her skirt-less condition. Mrs. Fairchild understood her though no word
was spoken.
'I thought you were going back to write in the shop,' she said gently to
her husband. 'The stove is still hot.'
'I am too tired,' he replied, and indeed he looked so. 'There is nothing so
very pressing, and it's too late for the London post. No--I would rather
take Celly's lessons; it will be a change.'
Mrs. Fairchild said no more, nor did Celestina--father's word was law.
The little girl did not even look cross or doleful, though she gave a tiny
sigh as she fetched her books. She was a docile pupil, thoughtful and
attentive, though not peculiarly quick, and Mr. Fairchild, in spite of his
rather nervously irritable temper, was an earnest and intelligent teacher.
The sums were fairly correct and the multiplication table was repeated
faultlessly. But when it came to the history Celestina was less ready
and accurate in her replies.
'My dear,' said her mother, who had sat down beside them with her

sewing by this time, 'you are not giving your full attention. I can see
you are thinking of something else. If it is anything you do not
understand ask father to explain it.'
'Certainly,' Mr. Fairchild agreed. 'There is nothing worse than giving
half attention. What are you thinking about, child?'
Celestina looked up timidly.
'It wasn't anything in the lesson--at least not exactly,' she said. 'But
when father asked me who was the king of France then, it made me
think of what father said about a French ma'amselle, and I wondered
what it meant.'
'Ma'amselle,' said her father, 'is only our English way of saying
"mademoiselle," which means a miss, a young lady.'
'But those young ladies, the Rectory young ladies, aren't French,'
Celestina said.
'Of course not. What I meant was that very likely they have a French
governess. It's the mode nowadays when every one wants to speak
French well.'
'Oh,' said Celestina, 'I didn't understand. I'd like to hear somebody
speak French,' she added. 'Did you ever