A Daughter of To-Day | Page 3

she's bad at figures. The child can't help that, though; she
gets it from me. I think I ought to ask you to be lenient with her on that
account."
"I have nothing to do with the mathematical branches, Mrs, Bell. I
teach only English to the senior classes. But I haven't heard Mr.
Jackson complain of Elfrida at all." Feeling that she could no longer
keep her errand at arm's length, Miss Kimpsey desperately closed with
it. "I've come--I hope you won't mind--Mrs. Bell, Elfrida has been
quoting Rousseau in her compositions, and I thought you'd like to
know."
"In the original?" asked Mrs. Bell, with interest. "I didn't think her
French was advanced enough for that."
"No, from a translation," Miss Kimpsey replied. "Her sentence ran: 'As
the gifted Jean Jacques Rousseau told the world in his "Confessions"'--I
forget the rest. That was the part that struck me most. She had evidently
been reading the works of Rousseau."
"Very likely. Elfrida has her own subscription at the library," Mrs. Bell
said speculatively. "It shows a taste in reading beyond her years,
doesn't it, Miss Kimpsey? The child is only fifteen."
"Well, I've never read Rousseau," the little teacher stated definitely.
"Isn't he--atheistical, Mrs. Bell, and improper every way?"
Mrs. Bell raised her eyebrows and pushed out her lips at the severity of
this ignorant condemnation. "He was a genius, Miss Kimpsey--rather I
should say he is, for genius cannot die. He is much thought of in France.
People there make a little shrine of the house he occupied with
Madame Warens, you know."
"Oh!" returned Miss Kimpsey, "French people."
"Yes. The French are peculiarly happy in the way they sanctify genius,"
said Mrs. Bell vaguely, with a feeling that she was wasting a really
valuable idea.

"Well, you'll have to excuse me, Mrs. Bell. I'd always heard you
entertained about as liberal views as there were going on any subject,
but I didn't expect they embraced Rousseau." Miss Kimpsey spoke
quite meekly. "I know we live in an age of progress, but I guess I'm not
as progressive as some."
"Many will stay behind," interrupted Mrs. Bell impartially, "but many
more will advance."
"And I thought maybe Elfrida had been reading that author without
your knowledge or approval, and that perhaps you'd like to know."
"I neither approve nor disapprove," said Mrs. Bell, poising her elbow
on the table, her chin upon her hand, and her judgment, as it were, upon
her chin. "I think her mind ought to develop along the lines that nature
intended; I think nature is wiser than I am"--there was an effect of
condescending explanation here--"and I don't feel justified in
interfering. I may be wrong--"
"Oh no!" said Miss Kimpsey.
"But Elfrida's reading has always been very general. She has a
remarkable mind, if you will excuse my saying so; it devours
everything. I can't tell you when she learned to read, Miss Kimpsey--it
seemed to come to her. She has often reminded me of what you see in
the biographies of distinguished people about their youth. There are
really a great many points of similarity sometimes. I shouldn't be
surprised if Elfrida did anything. I wish I had had her opportunities!"
"She's growing very good-looking," remarked Miss Kimpsey.
"It's an interesting face," Mrs. Bell returned. "Here is her last
photograph. It's full of soul, I think. She posed herself," Mrs. Bell
added unconsciously.
It was a cabinet photograph of a girl whose eyes looked definitely out
of it, dark, large, well shaded, full of a desire to be beautiful at once
expressed and fulfilled. The nose was a trifle heavily blocked, but the

mouth had sensitiveness and charm. There was a heaviness in the chin,
too, but the free springing curve of the neck contradicted that, and the
symmetry of the face defied analysis. It was turned a little to one side,
wistfully; the pose and the expression suited each other perfectly.
"Full of soul!" responded Miss Kimpsey. "She takes awfully well,
doesn't she! It reminds me--it reminds me of pictures I've seen of
Rachel, the actress, really it does."
"I'm afraid Elfrida has no talent that way." Mrs. Bell's accent was quite
one of regret.
"She seems completely wrapped up in her painting just now," said Miss
Kimpsey, with her eyes still on the photograph.
"Yes; I often wonder what her career will be, and sometimes it comes
home to me that it must be art. The child can't help it--she gets it
straight from me. But there were no art classes in my day." Mrs. Bell's
tone implied a large measure of what the world had lost in consequence.
"Mr. Bell doesn't agree with me about Elfrida's being predestined for
art," she went on, smiling; "his whole idea is that she'll