Page 173 - A Little Bush Maid

Her father laughed.

"You’ll never make a fisherman without cultivating an extra stock of
patience," he said. "The thought of last night’s luck ought to make you

happy."

"Well, it doesn’t," his daughter answered decidedly. "That was yesterday,

and this is to-day; and it is dull, Daddy, anyhow."

"Well, keep on hoping," said Mr. Linton; "luck may change at any minute.
Norah, do you know, T have something to tell you?"

"What?" Norah’s dullness was gone. There was something unusual in her
father’s tone.

"T’m afraid you won’t think it the best news," he said, smiling at her eager
face. "But it had to come some day, T suppose. T couldn’t keep you a baby

always. There’s a tutor coming to make a learned lady of my little bush
maid."

"Daddy!" There were worlds of horror in the tone.

"Oh, don’t!" said her father. "You make me feel a criminal of the deepest
dye. What can T do with you, you ignorant small child? T can’t let you grow

up altogether a bush duffer, dear." His voice was almost apologetic. "T can
assure you it might have been worse. Your Aunt Eva has been harrowing
my very soul to make me send you to a boarding school. Think of that

now!"

"Boarding school!" said Norah faintly. "Daddy, you wouldn’t?"

"No--not at present, certainly," said her father. "But T had to agree to

something--and, really, T knew it was time. You’re twelve, you know,
Norah. Be reasonable."