relatives wanted to bolster up the moribund old slavery of women, while her uncle was determined to give her freedom and power. He was never tired of disseminating the doctrine that if girls were brought up more like boys, in what is called manliness, and boys more like girls, in refinement and delicacy of mind, they would, as grown women and men, lead happier and nobler lives; society would be less injured by brutality in men and by the really greater though more plausible evil of “weakervesselism” in women. However, as financial and other practical considerations had brought about the arrangement whereby Mrs Newman kept house with her brother and his wife, and as all parties were too sensible to suppose that perfect union is to be looked for anywhere, they made the best of their dogmatical differences and on the whole got on comfortably together.
About Mr Bristley’s religious views, whether as clergyman or otherwise, all his professional brethren and their friends and belongings agreed that the less said the better. But he made up by works of charity, which, having some private fortune, he was well able to do; and his wife was constant in her ministrations to the sick and poor in the village. She was, in fact, out on her usual rounds on the morning when this story opens, and she appeared in the library about an hour after her niece had left it.
‘Upon my word, Theo, the neighbours will think we’re all crazy here. There’s that girl careering up and down the public road astride of a high bicycle, with old Fenrake running by her side and trying to keep her from tipping over, which I saw her do twice. She is covered with mud—I only hope not with bruises too. And such a costume too—dark blue knickers, stockings, and short jacket to match, and billycock hat; in short, every vestige of her sex carefully rubbed out—it really passes belief, my dearest—’
‘Why, that’s all right; it’s her bathing-dress; what better
