I had already a collection
of flowers, a collection of shells, a collection of wafers, and a
collection of seals. (People did not collect monograms and old stamps
in my young days.) These collections were a sore vexation to Nurse
Bundle.
"Whatever a gentleman like the Rector is thinking of, for to encourage
you in such rubbish, my dear," said she, "it passes me! It's vexing
enough to see dirt and bits about that shouldn't be, when you can take
the dust-pan and clear 'em away. But to have dead leaves, and weeds,
and stones off the road brought in day after day, and not be allowed
so much as to touch them, and a young gentleman that has things worth
golden guineas to play with, storing up a lot of stuff you could pick
off any rubbish-heap in a field before it's burned--if it was anybody
but you, my dear, I couldn't abear it. And what's a tutor for, I
should like to know?"
(Mrs. Bundle, who at no time liked blaming her darling, had now
acquired a habit of laying the blame of any misdoings of mine on the
tutor, on the ground that he "ought to have seen to" my acting
differently.)
If Mr. Clerke discovered that he could confess to being puzzled by
some of my questions, without losing ground in his pupil's respect, I
soon found out that my grown-up tutor had not altogether outlived
boyish feelings.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190