I tried my best;
and Miss Pinshon certainly tried her best. I went through and
over immense fields of figures; but I fancy the soil did not
suit the growth. I know the fruits were not satisfactory to
myself, and indeed were not fruits at all, to my sense of them;
but rather dry husks and hard nut shells, with the most
tasteless of small kernels inside. Yet Miss Pinshon did not
seem unsatisfied; and indeed occasionally remarked that she
believed I meant to be a good child. Perhaps that was
something out of my governess' former experience; for it was
the only style of commendation I ever knew her indulge in, and
I always took it as a compliment.
It would not do to tell all my childish life that winter. I
should never get through. For a child has as many experiences
in her little world as people of fifty years old have in
theirs; and to her they are not little experiences. It was not
a small trial of mind and body to spend the long mornings in
the study over the curious matters Miss Pinshon found for my
attention; and after the long morning the shorter afternoon
session was unmixed weariness.
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