was no longer materially afraid to appear before her uncle,
nor did her aunt Norris's voice make her start very much.
To her cousins she became occasionally an acceptable companion.
Though unworthy, from inferiority of age and strength,
to be their constant associate, their pleasures and schemes
were sometimes of a nature to make a third very useful,
especially when that third was of an obliging,
yielding temper; and they could not but own, when their
aunt inquired into her faults, or their brother Edmund
urged her claims to their kindness, that "Fanny was
good-natured enough."

Edmund was uniformly kind himself; and she had nothing
worse to endure on the part of Tom than that sort
of merriment which a young man of seventeen will always
think fair with a child of ten. He was just entering
into life, full of spirits, and with all the liberal
dispositions of an eldest son, who feels born only
for expense and enjoyment. His kindness to his little
cousin was consistent with his situation and rights:
he made her some very pretty presents, and laughed at her.

As her appearance and spirits improved, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris
thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan;
and it was pretty soon decided between them that,
though far from clever, she showed a tractable disposition,
and seemed likely to give them little trouble. A mean
opinion of her abilities was not confined to _them_.
Fanny could read, work, and write, but she had been taught
nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant