"I should indeed like to go to school," was the audible conclusion of my
musings.
"Well, well! who knows what may happen?" said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up.
"The child ought to have change of air and scene," he added, speaking to
himself; "nerves not in a good state."
Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up
the gravel-walk.
"Is that your mistress, nurse?" asked Mr. Lloyd. "I should like to speak
to her before I go."
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Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way out.
In the interview which followed between him and Mrs. Reed, I presume,
from after-occurrences, that the apothecary ventured to recommend my
being sent to school; and the recommendation was no doubt readily enough
adopted; for as Abbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when
both sat sewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as
they thought, asleep, "Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid
of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she
were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand." Abbot, I think,
gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
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