The children trooping about her, she used to be drawn to the nearest
bit of greensward, tree, or copse, and there would occupy herself
with the attempt to sketch, often in company with Edgar; and with a
few hints from her father, would be busied for days after with the
finishing them, or sometimes the idealising them, and filling them
with the personages she had read of in books of history or fiction.
She was a sensitive little body, who found it hard not to be fretful,
when told that it was very ill-natured to object to having her paints
daubed over her drawings by Lance, Robina, and Angel--an accusation
often brought against her by rough, kindly Sibby, and sometimes even
by Wilmet in an extremity: while Mamma's subdued entreaty, that she
would do something to please the little ones, if it could be without
mischief to herself, always humiliated her more than anything else,
and made her ready to leave all to their mercy, save for deference to
Edgar, and gratitude to Felix. Robina would look on soberly enough in
admiration; but Lance's notions of art were comic, and Fulbert's were
arbitrary, and both were imperiously carried out with due contempt
for the inferior sex, and were sure to infect both the little
sisters.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74