" Much as Joanne disliked needlework, she was quite good at it, for she had been well taught. But hearing the remark from her governess's lips was almost more than the child could bear. And as for childish games -
"Cousin Ambrose has been teaching me to play chess," she said in her curiously deep voice. "And we sometimes play cribbage and ecarte."
"Still, at your age, there is so much to learn that I think we must dedicate this hour to sewing each night. And now, tell me, what is your favourite lesson?"
Joanne eyed the lady for a moment. Then, "Latin and 'cello," she said sweetly.
She was not disappointed. Miss Mercier's face fell.
"Latin? Oh my dear, I am very sorry to hear that. Latin is essential for boys, of course; but I cannot think it necessary for a girl in your position. But you cannot have gone very far in it yet?"
"We were doing the Aenid at school when I left," said Joanne briskly. "Fourth book. And Caesar, of course. I've learnt Latin for years."
"My dear child, you mustn't exaggerate. That is most unladylike. I suppose you began two years ago? You cannot call two years "years" in the sense you did."
"I didn't. I began Latin when I was seven. My father taught me."
This was worse than Miss Mercier had expected. "

― Elinor M. Brent-Dyer , The Lost Staircase