Catch your
poet, and he'll soon make the machine interesting."
"Get a thorn into your finger, Alice," said George Eildon, "and I'll
take it out if it is so interesting."
"You could not make it interesting," said she.
"Just try," he said.
"But trying won't do. You know as well as I that there are things no
trying will ever do. I am trying to paint, for instance, and in time I
shall copy pretty well, but I shall never do more."
"Hush, hush!" said Miss Adamson. "I'm often enough in despair myself,
and hearing you say that makes me worse. I rebel at having got just so
much brain and no more; but I suppose," she said with a sigh, "if
we make the best of what we have, it's all right, and if we had
well-balanced minds we should be contented."
"Would you like to stay here longer among the hills and the sheep?"
said Lady Arthur. "I have just remembered that I want silks for my
embroidery, and I have time to go to town: I can catch the afternoon
train. Do any of you care to go?"
"It is good to be here," said Mr. Eildon, "but as we can't stay
always, we may as well go now.
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