It made a little difference to me; for when
she was not at home, the whole day, morning, afternoon and
evening, meal times and all times, seemed under a leaden grey
sky. Miss Pinshon discussed natural history to me when we were
walking — not the thing but the science; she asked me
questions in geography when we were eating breakfast, and
talked over some puzzle in arithmetic when we were at dinner.
I think it was refreshing to her; she liked it; but to me, the
sky closed over me in lead colour, one unbroken vault, as I
said, when my aunt was away. With her at home, all this could
not be; and any changes of colour were refreshing. All this
was not very good for me. My rides with Darry would have been
a great help; but now I only got a chance at them now and
then. I grew spiritless and weary. Sundays I would have begged
to be allowed to stay at home all day and rest; but I knew if
I pleaded fatigue my evenings with the people in the kitchen
would be immediately cut off; not my drives to church. Miss
Pinshon always drove the six miles to Bolingbroke every Sunday
morning, and took me with her.
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