"
But Maggie had her own thoughts. They were not imparted to her
friend. Nothing indeed appeared to her more odd than that Caroline
should be so wise in some things and so foolish in others. She did
not know that it was her own strange upbringing that gave her
independent estimates and judgments.
The second influence that, during these first weeks, developed her
soul and body was, strangely enough, her aunt's elderly friend, Mr.
Magnus. If Caroline introduced her to affairs of the world, Mr.
Magnus introduced her to affairs of the brain and spirit.
She had never before known any one who might be called "clever." Her
father was not, Uncle Mathew was not; no one in St. Dreots had been
clever. Mr. Magnus, of course, was "clever" because he wrote books,
two a year.
But to be an author, was not a claim to Maggie's admiration. As has
been said before, she did not care for reading, and considered that
the writing of books was a second-rate affair. The things that Mr.
Magnus might have done with his life if he had not spent it in
writing books! She regarded him with the kind indulgence of an elder
who watches a child brick-building.
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