Rhoda's Education by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

AND Rhoda believed it too. She was not, happily for herself, of a nervous temperament, and was disposed to look on the bright side of everything. By the time Monday morning came round, she was able to bid her friends good-bye with tolerable cheerfulness, and to go to her new home with good courage.

Mrs. Ferrand received her kindly. She was rather a pretty little woman, and attractive, in spite of a certain expression of anxiety and a precise, formal manner.

"We have a small family just now," said she; "only Mr. Ferrand and myself and one daughter, who goes to school. I have always kept two girls, but my cook went away last week, and the other girl was not contented without her. I shall get another cook as soon as I can find one to suit me, and in the mean time, we must manage as well as we can."

"Everything seems very convenient," remarked Rhoda, looking round at the kitchen, with its sink and range and abundance of tables and cupboards.

Mrs. Ferrand looked pleased:

"Well, yes. Everything is very convenient and nice, but somehow the girls don't seem to appreciate it. And really there is not much encouragement to make things right when they won't take any pains to keep them so. Only a week before Eliza went away, I bought a nice new clothes-wringer. She used it once, and the next thing I knew it was lying on the ground, out at the back door. But you look as if you might be careful. If you will go up these stairs, you will find your room at the head of them. I hope you will keep it in nice order, for Mr. Ferrand is very particular."

"I like to have things in order myself," remarked Rhoda, wondering at the same time what Mr. Ferrand would have to do with her room.

She found it a convenient though rather small apartment, having a pleasant window and comfortable furniture.

"This will do very well for one, but it would be pretty close quarters for two," she thought. "I wish I could do all the work myself. I wonder if I could?"

Rhoda found her life for the first week or two sufficiently comfortable. Mr. Ferrand was away, and Isabella, the daughter, was at school from half-past eight to four. The rest of the time she either studied or practised on the piano. She was a pretty, amiable girl, but Rhoda thought she seemed very languid and indifferent. Mrs. Ferrand was kind, and helped about the work herself. She was excessively nice and particular, but not unreasonable; and she soon discovered that Rhoda was bent on doing her best, and treated her accordingly.

Rhoda was well and strong, and she liked to have things neat and comfortable for her own sake. Mrs. Bowers had not neglected Rhoda's education in this respect, as do too many mothers. She had drilled her charge thoroughly in household work, and taught her to use her time and strength to the best advantage. Rhoda knew how to calculate her motions, to save herself steps, and to make her work tell. She felt that she was giving Mrs. Ferrand satisfaction, and that in itself was a great help to her.

She had arranged her room as nicely as possible, with various little ornaments and books which she had bought, or which had been sent from her former home, and it was really a very pretty little retreat. She had usually finished the most of her work by three o'clock, and after that, the time was her own till six, for Mrs. Ferrand never asked her to do any sewing.

Rhoda used to try to spend at least two hours a day over her books; and though she did not make very great progress, she at least kept what she had already gained. She deeply regretted the loss of her music, but there was no help for that. Her fingers used fairly to tingle sometimes when she was alone in the room with the piano, but she never ventured to touch it, and refrained from saying a word, even when Isabella tortured her ears as she did by making the very same blunders in the same places day after day.

"Don't forget your practising, Isa," said her mother, one evening, as she was going out. "Mr. Harvey tells me you ought to practice at least one hour more every day."

"Then I wish Mr. Harvey would mind his business," said Isa, sullenly, as the door closed behind her mother. "I want to learn my Bible-class lessons and to read, and I haven't one minute's time because of Mr. Harvey and that tiresome old piano. I wish they were in the Red Sea together."

"Don't wish that. Wish I had them," said Rhoda, who was clearing the tea-table. "I only wish I had your chance, Miss Isa."

"I'm sure I wish you had if you want it," answered Isa "perhaps you might make something of it. I know you can sing, for I have heard you, and I dare say you could learn to play, but I never shall. Fathers has spent a great deal on my music already, and I don't play decently."

"Oh, you mustn't be discouraged," said Rhoda. "You have come to the hard place, I suppose. Aunt Betsy says there must always be a hard place in everything. Oh, don't cry, please don't," said Rhoda, dismayed, as Isa's head went down on the piano amid a burst of hysterical sobs. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't," sobbed Isa. "But I am so tired and so discouraged, I can't help crying. It is just school, school, lesson, lesson, all the time from year's end to year's end. I detest it all, and I wish I was a Dutch girl working in Uncle John's nursery: so there!"

"And I only wish I had your chance to go to school and study," said Rhoda. "I would rather do it than anything else in the world. I wouldn't care how hard I worked."