Through her influence the Why and How of things began to steal into our conversation.

We had more discussion and less gossip, and found it better fun.
"One never tells you anything without your beginning to argue about it," said one of the girls to her one day.
"I'm very sorry," said poor Eleanor.
"You're very clever, you mean," said Emma.

"What a lawyer you'd have made, Eleanor! While we growl at the Toad's tyranny, you make a case out of it." (I regret to have to confess that, owing to a peculiarity of complexion, Madame was familiarly known to us, behind her back, as the Toad.) "Well, I don't know," said Eleanor, puckering her brows and nursing her knees, as we all sat or lounged on the school-room floor, during the after-dinner recreation minutes, in various awkward but restful attitudes; "I can growl as well as anybody, but I never feel satisfied with bewailing over and over again that black's black.

One wants to find out why it's black, and if anything would make it white.

Besides, I think perhaps when one looks into one's grievances, one sees excuses for people--there are two sides to every question." "There'll be one, two, three," said Emma, looking slowly round and counting the party with a comical imitation of Eleanor's thoughtful air--"there'll be fifteen sides to every question by the time we've all learnt to talk like you, my dear." Eleanor burst out laughing, and we most of us joined her to such good purpose, that Madame overheard us, and thought it prudent to break up our sitting, though we had only had a short twelve minutes' rest.
Eleanor not only set the fashion of a more reasonable style of chat in our brief holiday hours, but she was apt to make lessons the subject of discussions which were at first resented by the other girls.
"I can't think," she began one day (it was a favourite way with her of opening a discussion)--"I can't think what makes Mr.Henley always make us put the shadows in in cobalt.