Emily's Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

house whereDede stood watching from the porch, Emily felt confident she would pass Dede’s inspection. She smiled and waved.
    â€œWait!” Dede called.
    Worried, Emily glanced down at herself. No, her legs weren’t showing. Her skirt was hanging properly.
    Dede came down the front steps, holding something out to Emily. It was the riding whip–the same one Dede had used on the back of Emily’s legs more than once.
    â€œYou’ll need this,” Dede said.
    Emily took the whip and waited for Dede to say more. But Dede stepped back.
    â€œWell, go on then,” she said with a nod toward the road. “Don’t be too long.”
    Emily took up the reins again and urged Johnny forward.
    â€œLet’s go,” she told him softly.
    Johnny walked at a steady sedate pace down the driveway, and Emily concentrated on sitting straight and square in the saddle, holding the reins just right. Once they had turned on to the road and were out of Dede’s sight, Emily relaxed.
    â€œCome on, Johnny!” she called out. “Let’s have some fun!”
    She pressed her left leg into Johnny’s side and tapped his other side with the whip. Johnny shifted to an eager trot, and Emily began bouncing up and down in the saddle, her hair shaking loose from its ribbon. After a few jarring moments, she caught the horse’s rhythm and began to move more comfortably. Soon they were riding down the quiet lane through Beacon Hill Park, and Emily slowed Johnny to a walk again.
    The whole park was alive with growing. On both sides of the road, the dark green branches of cedar and fir trees hung like graceful skirts, their edges trimmed with pale new green. Maple trees unfurled tender new leaves, and the pale white blossoms of wild cherry trees glowed in the shadows. Sweet smells filled the air.
    Johnny seemed to know his way, so Emily relaxed her hold on the reins and let herself drink in the beauty around her.

 10 
Serious Art
    â€œI don’t want to see any outlines,” Miss Withrow told the art class as she walked around the room. “In nature, there are no lines around objects.”
    Emily looked down at her paper and rubbed at a dark line with her finger. She looked up at the bowl of fruit they were all supposed to be sketching. Miss Withrow had arranged apples and pears in a shallow blue bowl in the center of the long art table. Emily had sketched their rough shapes on her paper and was beginning to fill them in with different tones of her pencil, pressing harder for the dark shadows and receding areas. She looked back to her paperand decided the smudging she’d just done created a nice modeled effect, giving her apple more roundness.
    â€œMiss Withrow?”
    Emily turned to see Sophie Pemberton with her hand raised and her eyes looking to the art teacher with suppressed excitement.
    â€œI have some news,” Sophie continued when Miss Withrow acknowledged her. “My parents have agreed that I should go to England to study art. They’ve written to the Slade School of Art in London, and I’ve been accepted.”
    A buzz of excitement rose around the room.
    â€œCongratulations, Sophie!” Miss Withrow said, smiling and clapping her hands together. “How wonderful for you.”
    Emily looked at Sophie with envy and awe. She was so lucky. Everyone knew that if you wished to be a serious artist you’d have to go abroad to study. There were no art schools in Victoria yet or even in Vancouver, the nearest large city. The best schools werein London, England or Paris, France–both very far away. Dede would never let Emily go away to study. The idea of leaving home and leaving Victoria was a scary thought as well. Sophie must be very brave and confident. Even if her mother went with her, Sophie would need a lot of courage to study among strangers in a place that might not take a girl from Canada seriously.
    â€œThere you go, girls,” Miss Withrow