Everybody knew that Miss Rebecca Chattesworth ruled supreme at Belmont.
With a docile old general and a niece so young, she had less resistance
to encounter than, perhaps, her ardent soul would have relished.
Fortunately for the general it was only now and then that Aunt Becky
took a whim to command the Royal Irish Artillery. She had other hobbies
just as odd, though not quite so scandalous. It had struck her active
mind that such of the ancient women of Chapelizod as were destitute of
letters--mendicants and the like--should learn to read. Twice a week her
'old women's school,' under that energetic lady's presidency, brought
together its muster-roll of rheumatism, paralysis, dim eyes, bothered
ears, and invincible stupidity. Over the fire-place in large black
letters, was the legend, 'BETTER LATE THAN NEVER!' and out came the
horn-books and spectacles, and to it they went with their A-B ab, etc.,
and plenty of wheezing and coughing. Aunt Becky kept good fires, and
served out a mess of bread and broth, along with some pungent ethics, to
each of her hopeful old girls. In winter she further encouraged them
with a flannel petticoat apiece, and there was besides a monthly dole.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70