Miss Bennett
Since his return Aylmer saw everything through what he called a
rose-coloured microscope--that is to say, every detail of his life, and
everything connected with it, seemed to him perfect. He saw Edith as
much as ever, and far less formally than before. She treated him with
affectionate ease. She had admitted by her behaviour on the night he
returned that she cared for him, and, for the moment, that was enough.
A sort of general relaxation of formality, due to the waning of the
season, and to people being too busy to bother, or already in thought
away, seemed to give a greater freedom. Everyone seemed more natural,
and more satisfied to follow their own inclinations and let other
people follow theirs. London was getting stale and tired, and the last
feverish flickers of the exhausted season alternated with a kind of
languor in which nobody bothered much about anybody else's affairs.
General interest was exhausted, and only a strong sense of
self-preservation seemed to be left; people clung desperately to their
last hopes. Edith was curiously peaceful and contented. She would have
had scarcely any leisure but that her mother-in-law sometimes relieved
her of the care of the children.
Being very anxious that they should not lose anything from Miss
Townsend's absence, she gave them lessons every day.
One day, at the end of a history lesson, Archie said:
'Where's Miss Townsend?'
'She's at Bexhill.'
'Why is she at Bexhill?'
'Because she likes it.'
'Where's Bexhill?'
'In England.'
'Why isn't Miss Townsend?'
'What do you mean, Archie?'
'Well, why isn't she Miss Townsend any more?'
'She is.'
'But she's not our Miss Townsend any more. Why isn't she?'
'She's gone away.'
'Isn't she coming back?'
'No.'
Watching his mother's face he realised that she didn't regret this, so
he said:
'Is Miss Townsend teaching anybody else?'
'I daresay she is, or she will, perhaps.'
'What are their names?'
'How should I know?'
'Do you think she'll teach anybody else called Archie?'
'It's possible.'
'I wonder if she'll ever be cross with the next boy she teaches.'
'Miss Townsend was very kind to you,' said Edith. 'But you need not
think about her any more, because you will be going to school when you
come back from the holidays.'
'That's what I told Dilly,' said Archie. 'But Dilly's not going to
school. Dilly doesn't mind; she says she likes you better than Miss
Townsend.'
'Very kind of her, I'm sure,' laughed Edith.
'You see you're not a real governess,' said Archie, putting his arm
round her neck. 'You're not angry, are you, mother? Because you're not
a real one it's more fun for us.'
'How do you mean, I'm not a real governess?'
'Well, I mean we're not _obliged_ to do what you tell us!'
'Oh, aren't you? You've got to; you're to go now because I expect Miss
Bennett.'
'Can't I see Miss Bennett?'
'Why do you want to see her?'
'I don't want to see her; but she always brings parcels. I like to see
the parcels.'
'They are not for you; she brings parcels because I ask her to do
shopping for me. It's very kind of her.'
She waited a minute, then he said:
'Mother, do let me be here when Miss Bennett brings the parcels. I'll
be very useful. I can untie parcels with my teeth, like this. Look! I
throw myself on the parcel just like a dog, and shake it and shake it,
and then I untie it with my teeth. It would be awfully useful.'
She refused the kind offer.
Miss Bennett arrived as usual with the parcels, looking pleasantly
business-like and important.
'I wonder if these things will do?' she said, as she put them out on
the table.
'Oh, they're sure to do,' said Edith; 'they're perfect.'
'My dear, wait till you see them. I don't think I've completed all your
list.' She took out a piece of paper.
'Where did you get everything?' Edith asked, without much interest.
'At Boots', principally. Then the novels--Arnold Bennett, Maxwell--Oh,
and I've got you the poem: 'What is it?' by Gilbert Frankau.'
'No, you mean, 'One of us',' corrected Edith.
'Then white serge for nurse to make Dilly's skirts--skirts a quarter of
a yard long!--how sweet!--and heaps and heaps of muslin, you see, for
her summer dresses. Won't she look an angel? Oh, and you told me to get
some things to keep Archie quiet in the train.' She produced a drum, a
trumpet, and a mechanical railway train. 'Will that do?'
'Beautifully.'
'And here's your travelling cloak from the other place.'
'It looks lovely,' said Edith.
'Aren't you going to try it on?'
'No; it's sure to be all right.'
'I never saw such a woman as you! Here are the hats. You've _got_ to
choose these.'
Here Edith showed more interest. She put them on, said all the colour
must be taken out of them, white put in one, black velvet in the other.
Otherwise they would do.
'Thanks, Grace; you're awfully kind and clever. Now do you know what
you're going to do? You're going to the Academy with me and Aylmer.
He's coming to fetch us.'
'Oh, really--what fun!'
At this moment he arrived. Edith introduced them.
'I've been having such a morning's shopping,' she said, 'I deserve a
little treat afterwards, don't I?'
'What sort of shopping? I'll tell you what you ought to have--a great
cricket match when the shopping season's over, between the Old
Selfridgians, and the Old Harrodians,' he said, laughing.
They walked through acres of oil paintings and dozens of portraits of
Chief Justices.
'I can't imagine anyone but Royalty enjoying these pictures,' said
Edith.
'They don't go to see pictures; they go to view exhibits,' Aylmer
answered.
Declaring they had 'Academy headache' before they had been through the
second room, they sat down and watched the people.
One sees people there that are to be seen nowhere else. An
extraordinary large number of clergymen, a peculiar kind of provincial,
and strange Londoners, almost impossible to place, in surprising
clothes.
Then they gave it up, and Aylmer took them out to lunch at a club
almost as huge and noisy and as miscellaneous as the Academy itself.
However, they thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Edith and Bruce were to take up their abode in their little country
house at Westgate next day.