He said he wouldn't have lessons when he was in the cars.
And we ARE in the cars about half the time. There was an English
lady we met in the cars--I think her name was Miss Featherstone;
perhaps you know her. She wanted to know why I didn't give
Randolph lessons--give him 'instruction,' she called it.
I guess he could give me more instruction than I could give him.
He's very smart."
"Yes," said Winterbourne; "he seems very smart."
"Mother's going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy.
Can you get good teachers in Italy?"
"Very good, I should think," said Winterbourne.
"Or else she's going to find some school. He ought to learn
some more. He's only nine. He's going to college."
And in this way Miss Miller continued to converse upon the affairs
of her family and upon other topics. She sat there with her
extremely pretty hands, ornamented with very brilliant rings,
folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now resting upon
those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden, the people
who passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to Winterbourne
as if she had known him a long time.
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