"
"Is this the New Woman breaking her shell?" said mother. "I don't think
I quite like the interpretation scheme either as Amy or as you outline
it, though I am open to persuasion. Here is the doctor. Let us hear what
he says."
It was not Dr. Wainwright, but my father, Dr. Raeburn, except on a
Friday, the most genial of men. Amy perched herself on his knee and ran
her slim fingers through his thick dark hair. To him our plans were
explained, and he at once gave them his approval.
"As I understand you, Gracie," Dr. Raeburn said, "you wish this reading
business as a stepping-stone. You would form classes, would you not? And
your music could also be utilized. You had good instruction, I fancy,
both here and over the water."
"Indeed, yes, Dr. Raeburn; and I could give lessons in music, but they
wouldn't bring me in much, here at least."
"Come to my study," said the doctor, rising. "Amy, you have ruffled up
my hair till I look like a cherub before the flood. Come, all of you,
Dorothy and the kids."
"You don't call us kids, do you, papa?"
"Young ladies, then, at your service," said the doctor, with a low bow.
"I've a letter from my old friend, Vernon Hastings. I'll read it to you
when I can find it," said the good man, rummaging among the books,
papers, and correspondence with which his great table was littered.
"Judge Hastings," the doctor went on, "lost his wife in Venice a year
ago. He has three little girls in need, of special advantages; he cannot
bear to send them away to school, and his mother, who lives with him and
orders the house, won't listen to having a resident governess.
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