"Oh, then we'll have holidays till we have got books, mamma," said
Conrade, putting his hands on the sofa, and imitating a kicking horse.
"It is very necessary to see what kind of books you ought to have,"
returned Rachel. "How far have you gone in this?"
"I say, mamma," reiterated Conrade, "we can't do lessons without books."
"Attend to what your Aunt Rachel says, my dear; she wants to find out
what books you should have."
"Yes, let me examine you."
Conrade came most inconveniently close to her; she pushed her chair
back; he came after her. His mother uttered a remonstrating, "My dear!"
"I thought she wanted to examine me," quoth Conrade. "When Dr. M'Vicar
examines a thing, he puts it under a microscope."
It was said gravely, and whether it were malice or simplicity, Rachel
was perfectly unable to divine, but she thought anyway that Fanny had
no business to laugh, and explaining the species of examination that she
intended, she went to work. In her younger days she had worked much
at schools, and was really an able and spirited teacher, liking the
occupation; and laying hold of the first book in her way, she requested
Conrade to read. He obeyed, but in such a detestable gabble that she
looked up appealingly to Fanny, who suggested, "My dear, you can read
better than that." He read four lines, not badly, but then broke off,
"Mamma, are not we to have ponies? Coombe heard of a pony this morning;
it is to be seen at the 'Jolly Mariner,' and he will take us to look at
it."
"The 'Jolly Mariner!' It is a dreadful place, Fanny, you never will let
them go there?"
"My dear, the Major will see about your ponies when he comes."
"We will send the coachman down to inquire," added Rachel.
"He is only a civilian, and the Major always chooses our horses," said
Conrade.
"And I am to have one too, mamma," added Francis. "You know I have been
out four times with the staff, and the Major said I could ride as well
as Con!"
"Reading is what is wanted now, my dear, go on."
Five lines more; but Francis and his mother were whispering together,
and of course Conrade stopped to listen. Rachel saw there was no hope
but in getting him alone, and at his mother's reluctant desire,
he followed her to the dining-room; but there he turned dogged and
indifferent, made a sort of feint of doing what he was told, but whether
she tried him in arithmetic, Latin, or dictation, he made such ludicrous
blunders as to leave her in perplexity whether they arose from ignorance
or impertinence. His spelling was phonetic to the highest degree, and
though he owned to having done sums, he would not, or did not answer the
simplest question in mental arithmetic. "Five apples and eight apples,
come, Conrade, what will they make?"