"Well!" he said, in accordance with his usual formula, "and how go the classics?"
"Fairly well."
"Does Miss Beaumont show any ability?"
"I should say that she does. At all events she has enthusiasm."
"You do not think it is the enthusiasm of a child? I will be frank with you, Mr. Inskip. In many ways Miss Beaumont's practically a child. She has everything to learn: she acknowledges as much herself. Her new life is so different—so strange. Our habits—our thoughts—she has to be initiated into them all."
I saw what he was driving at, but I am not a fool, and I replied: "And how can she be initiated better than through the classics?"
"Exactly, exactly," said Mr. Worters. In the distance we heard her voice. She was counting the beech-trees. "The only question is—this Latin and Greek—what will she do with it? Can she make anything of it? Can she—well, it's not as if she will ever have to teach it to others."
"That is true." And my features might have been observed to become undecided.
"Whether, since she knows so little—I
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