stay with Molly till he came home at night; or, if he was detained,
until the child's bedtime.

'Now, Miss Eyre,' said he, summing up his instructions the day before
she entered upon her office, 'remember this: you are to make good tea
for the young men, and see that they have their meals comfortably,
and--you are five-and-thirty, I think you said?--try and make them
talk,--rationally, I am afraid is beyond your or anybody's power; but
make them talk without stammering or giggling. Don't teach Molly too
much: she must sew, and read, and write, and do her sums; but I want
to keep her a child, and if I find more learning desirable for her,
I'll see about giving it to her myself. After all, I am not sure that
reading or writing is necessary. Many a good woman gets married with
only a cross instead of her name; it's rather a diluting of mother-wit,
to my fancy; but, however we must yield to the prejudices of society,
Miss Eyre, and so you may teach the child to read.'

Miss Eyre listened in silence, perplexed but determined to be obedient
to the directions of the doctor, whose kindness she and her family had
good cause to know. She made strong tea; she helped the young men
liberally in Mr. Gibson's absence, as well as in his presence, and she
found the way to unloosen their tongues, whenever their master was
away, by talking to them on trivial subjects in her pleasant homely
way. She taught Molly to read and write, but tried honestly to keep her
back in every other branch of education. It was only by fighting and
struggling hard, that bit by bit Molly persuaded her father to let her
have French and drawing lessons. He was always afraid of her becoming
too much educated, though he need not have been alarmed; the masters
who visited such small country towns as Hollingford forty years ago,
were no such great proficients in their arts. Once a week she joined a