So Long At the Fair by Jess Foley

it’s so bad.’ While the minister gave a sniff, the doctor looked at Abbie. ‘What did you think of it, Miss Morris?’
    ‘I – I thought in a way it was an excellent book, sir.’
    ‘Did you, now?’ The doctor gave a little smile.
    Mr Carstairs said, ‘And what did you find so excellent about it, Miss Morris?’
    ‘It – its truth.’
    Mr Yates: ‘Its truth ?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Abbie nodded. ‘It’s a harrowing story – and, I agree, not a pleasant one. But I don’t think it was meant to be.’
    ‘What’s it about?’ said the squire.
    Abbie hesitated briefly, then replied, ‘It’s . . . well, it’s simply the story of a provincial housewife – a woman who is bored in her marriage and – and seeks distractions elsewhere. She longs for her life to be like the lives of the heroines she reads about in her novelettes – romantic and exciting.’ As she spoke she had a sudden vision of her mother, sitting in the kitchen, reading. ‘The woman’s story ends in disaster,’ she finished.
    There was a little silence.
    ‘Anyway,’ said Mr Hilldew, ‘I don’t imagine for a moment that Miss Morris would be teaching such a book to her students.’
    ‘No, sir,’ said Abbie, ‘of course not.’
    ‘Well,’ muttered Mr Carstairs to the ceiling, ‘that’s something to be thankful for.’
    Steepling his fingers and leaning forward slightly, Mr Hilldew said, ‘Exactly what would you hope to teach your pupils, Miss Morris?’
    ‘I think the most important thing,’ Abbie said, ‘would be to teach them to read. Once a person can read there are no boundaries to the scope of his learning. My father says that reading is the key to all knowledge.’
    Dr Parrish gave a nod of agreement at this and murmured, ‘Yes, indeed.’
    Mr Yates said, ‘And how far would you take your pupils, Miss Morris? – in their learning, I mean.’
    ‘As far as it was possible to go, sir – within their capabilities.’
    ‘Would you care to elaborate?’
    She hesitated, not knowing what was expected of her. ‘Well, the lives of the poor are so restricted,’ she said. ‘Generally they know nothing of what goes on outside their immediate vicinity. And they are kept down by their lack of knowledge. I – I would do what I could to change things for them. To open the world for them.’ She was aware as she finished speaking of how pompous her words sounded, but she meant them; it was what she believed.
    While the school inspector glanced about him with raised eyebrows, the Baptist minister spoke up. ‘And what would be the point in that?’ he enquired. ‘In the countryside the men work as labourers on farms, and in the towns they operate machines in factories. What good could it do them to know about the finer points of the Poor Laws or the machinations of the French Revolution?’
    ‘If they’re kept subjugated then it certainly wouldn’t do them any good at all,’ Abbie answered. ‘But surely a man has a right to the opportunity to better himself.’
    ‘I’m afraid,’ said Mr Yates, ‘that that kind of philosophy could only lead to discontent. Or hasn’t that occurred to you?’
    ‘Oh, but a certain amount of discontent is surely necessary, sir,’ Abbie replied. ‘All progress and creativity are born out of frustration and discontent. It’s complacency that is fatal to progress.’
    Mr Yates and Mr Carstairs stared at her, eyes wide.
    Dr Parrish said, ‘So you would not, I imagine, agree with the recent words of the minister Robert Lowe when he was speaking on Education.’
    ‘You mean,’ Abbie replied, ‘when he said that the lower classes “ought to be educated to discharge the duties cast upon them”? No, sir. If that’s the philosophy behind all education then a man will never be able to better himself. Every child would be condemned to being no better than his parents.’
    ‘And you,’ said Mr Carstairs, now barely hiding his hostility, ‘would like to be better than yours.’
    ‘Well, sir.