"I should have hoped to have trained him, my lady, to understand the
rules of discretion."

"Trained! Train a barn-door fowl to be a pheasant, Mr. Horner! That
would be the easier task. But you did right to speak of discretion
rather than honour. Discretion looks to the consequences of
actions--honour looks to the action itself, and is an instinct rather
than a virtue. After all, it is possible you might have trained him to
be discreet."

Mr. Horner was silent. My lady was softened by his not replying, and
began as she always did in such cases, to fear lest she had been too
harsh. I could tell that by her voice and by her next speech, as well as
if I had seen her face.

"But I am sorry you are feeling the pressure of the affairs: I am quite
aware that I have entailed much additional trouble upon you by some of my
measures: I must try and provide you with some suitable assistance.
Copying letters and doing up accounts, I think you said?"

Mr. Horner had certainly had a distant idea of turning the little boy, in
process of time, into a clerk; but he had rather urged this possibility
of future usefulness beyond what he had at first intended, in speaking of
it to my lady as a palliation of his offence, and he certainly was very
much inclined to retract his statement that the letter-writing, or any
other business, had increased, or that he was in the slightest want of
help of any kind, when my lady after a pause of consideration, suddenly
said--

"I have it. Miss Galindo will, I am sure, be glad to assist you. I will