Christmas Day came to an end, and the very next morning, when I was
alone with my step-mother, I asked her what Hermione meant by her words.
"Oh, she has told you?" said Mrs Grant.
She was sitting by the fire in the little drawing-room; the stuffed
birds and the stuffed animals surrounded us, but the room was never
close, and it had the faint, delicious smell of cedar-wood which had
fascinated me so much on the occasion of my first visit.
"Sit down, Dumps," she said, holding out her hand to take one of mine.
"But please tell me," I said.
"Well, yes, it has been arranged. Your father would like it, and so
would I. You go on the 21st of January. It is a very nice school, just
beyond the Champs Elysees. You will be well taught, and I think the
change will do you good."
"You suggested it, didn't you?" I said.
"Yes, naturally."
"Why naturally? I am his child."
"My dear, you know his character; he is so absorbed in those marvellous
things which occupy his great brain that he hasn't time--"
"Oh, I know," I said bitterly; "he never had any time, this wonderful
father of ours, to attend to us, his children."
"Dear, he has given you into my care, and, believe me, I love you."
"I believe you do," I said in a gentle voice.
"Some day, Rachel, I am sure you will love me."