VIRGINIA GOES TO KENCOTE
"My dear Lady George Dubec" [wrote Mrs. Clinton], "My husband and I
will be glad if you will come to us here when you return to Meadshire,
which Dick tells me will be next Wednesday. We shall be pleased to
welcome you at Kencote and to make your acquaintance. We shall be
pleased also to see Miss Dexter, and perhaps you will kindly tell her
so, and let me know if she will accompany you.
"With kindest regards to yourself and to her,
"Believe me,
"Very sincerely yours,
"NINA CLINTON."
"There!" said Virginia, tossing this missive over to her companion.
She had opened Dick's much longer letter, which had come by the same
post, first of all, and half-way through its perusal had searched for
Mrs. Clinton's amongst the rest. Now she returned to Dick's, while
Miss Dexter read Mrs. Clinton's.
"What on earth does it all mean?" asked Miss Dexter. "Has the world
come to an end, or has that preposterous old bear come to his senses at
last?"
"It means, my dear Toby," said Virginia, looking up at her with a happy
smile, "that all this horrible business is at an end. Dick has fought,
and Dick has won. And we owe everything to the help that his dearest
of dear mothers has given us. I knew I should love that woman from the
first time I set eyes on her, and now I adore her. Three cheers for
Mrs. Clinton."
She waved Dick's letter over her head. Miss Dexter looked down again
at Mrs. Clinton's, and then again in dry surprise at her friend. "And
do you really mean to tell me," she asked, "that you are satisfied with
_this_ as an atonement for everything they have made you go through? I
never read such a letter--as cold and unwilling as she is herself.
I'll tell you what will happen, Virginia, if you go to Kencote. You
will simply be insulted. Do you think people like that can change?
Not a bit of it. 'Kindest regards,' indeed! She may keep her kindest
regards to herself as far as I'm concerned."
"Oh, Toby, don't be so tiresome!" Virginia adjured her. "You know
you're just as pleased as I am--or very nearly. Shall we go straight
to Kencote from London, or go to Bathgate and leave some things at
Blaythorn and pick up some others? I think we'll do that. I must take
my smartest frocks, and so must you. For you are really quite
presentable if you would only give yourself a chance."
"You may leave me out of it," said Miss Dexter. "I'm as likely to go
to Kencote as I am to Windsor Castle. If _you_ like to put your head
into the bear's den and say 'Thank you for having tried to eat me up,
and now by all means finish me off,' you can. I have a little more
self-respect, and nothing would induce me to go near those people."
"Ah!" said Virginia, "you are still huffy because Mrs. Clinton snubbed
you. Quite right of her! You are a dear, loyal, faithful creature,
and I know you would follow me to much more terrible places than
Kencote, where you will find yourself in a week's time; but you had no
business to go interfering without consulting me about it. I'm too
fond of you to snub you, as you so often deserve, so I'm quite pleased
when other people do it for me."
"Yes, that's all I get for trying to help you," said Miss Dexter.
"What do you suppose has happened? Has Captain Dick told them that you
have money? That's the only thing I can think of that would make that
purse-proud old lunatic change his mind."
"He doesn't say anything about that, and I'm sure he hasn't told them.
_I_ shall tell Mr. Clinton, and it will make him love me even more than
I'm going to make him as it is. I know I'm talking nonsense, but in
the state of mind I find myself in at present that can't be helped.
No, Toby dear, it is Mrs. Clinton who has done it all. My Dick says
so. She was always on our side. She liked the look of me, Toby, odd
as it may seem to you; and if she could have got round the old bear's
prejudices--but I mustn't call him that any longer--she would have done
so before. I knew I was right about her. It was the only thing I
didn't _quite_ like about Dick--that he seemed always to think she was
of no account. Now he has come round, and my cup of happiness is
brimming over. Oh, Toby, I've never been so happy in my life before."
She put her handkerchief to her eyes, but she smiled gaily through her
tears.
"Quite so," returned Miss Dexter, unmoved by this show of emotion.
"You're all for the moment. Next week, when you are alone amongst them
all, and they show you what they really think of you, you will never
have been so miserable in your life. People like that don't change.
They haven't got it in them. And you are laying up a most
uncomfortable time for yourself. I give you solemn warning. I know
what I'm talking about. I'm not carried away by sentiment as you are.
Don't go, Virginia. Don't make yourself cheap."
"My dear," said Virginia in gentle seriousness, "if I were really
making myself cheap by going to Kencote, I would go, if Dick asked me
to. I can never be cheap to him. He'll be there, and nothing that can
happen will touch me. But nothing will happen--nothing disagreeable.
Why should you think so?"
Miss Dexter threw out her hands. "Oh, when you talk like that!" she
said. "Well, go, my dear, and good luck go with you."
"_You_ are my good luck, and you will go with me," said Virginia.
"Now, Toby darling, don't say no. You have done so much for me.
Surely you can do this."
"I suppose I can," said Miss Dexter after a short pause. "But if Mrs.
Clinton thinks I'm going to fall into her arms after her treatment of
me, she'll find herself mistaken. And if the worst comes to the worst
I can tell Mr. Clinton what I think of him. I should like an
opportunity of doing that. Yes, I'll come, Virginia."
They went straight to Kencote from London, the state of Virginia's
travelling wardrobe having been decided to be capable of answering all
necessary calls on it, and Miss Dexter having declared that if she
appeared as a dowdy, she would find others to keep her company at
Kencote in spite of the airs they gave themselves.
At the railway terminus Humphrey Clinton came up to them. "Hulloa!" he
said in the somewhat off-hand manner he adopted towards most ladies of
his acquaintance. "Going back to Blaythorn?"
"No," said Virginia. "We are going to Kencote. So are you, I suppose?
We will travel down together, and you shall smoke to me."
Miss Dexter's sharp eyes were upon him, and she saw him flinch,
although Virginia did not. It was the merest twitch of a muscle, and
he had recovered himself instantly. "That's first class," he said.
"And this seems to be First Class too. Shall we get in here?"
"That nice-looking porter with the grey beard has found us a carriage,"
said Virginia. "If we all three spread ourselves over it nobody will
come in, and you can smoke when once the train has started."
"You had better sit at the other end of the carriage, then," said
Humphrey, "and pull your veil down, or else _everybody_ will want to
come in."
"Now, Toby, don't you call that a perfectly lovely speech?" asked
Virginia.
Miss Dexter emitted a sound indicative of scorn, but made no verbal
reply, and they walked down the platform. A lady with spectacles, an
unbecoming felt hat and a short skirt, was coming towards them, and as
they approached one another she and Miss Dexter exclaimed,
simultaneously, and then shook hands with expressions of pleasure.
Miss Dexter then introduced the lady with the spectacles to Virginia,
as an old schoolfellow, Janet Phipp, whom she had not met for years and
years, and who had not changed in the least in the meantime, and asked
her where she was going.
"I am going to a place called Kencote," said Miss Phipp; "as
governess," she added uncompromisingly, with an eye on Virginia's fur
and feathers and Humphrey's general air of opulence.
"Oh, but that's where we are all going!" cried Virginia. "How jolly!
And this is Mr. Humphrey Clinton, the brother of your pupils."
Humphrey shook hands with Miss Phipp. "You'll find them a rare
handful," he said.
"That won't worry me in the least," said Miss Phipp.
"We'll all travel down together," said Virginia, "and you shall be told
all about the twins. I've never met them, and I'm dying to."
"I'm going second class," said Miss Phipp, and Miss Dexter said, "I'll
go with you. Virginia, I shall just have time to change my ticket."
She dashed off to the booking-office.
"That's so like Toby," said Virginia. "Always impulsive. She might
have thought of changing Miss Phipp's ticket. What was she like at
school, the dear thing?"
"Excellent at mathematics," replied Miss Phipp. "Languages weak, as
far as I remember."
The train slipped off on its two hours' non-stop run, with Virginia and
Humphrey in one carriage and Miss Dexter and Miss Phipp in another.
The two ladies had much to say to one another as to the course of their
respective lives since they had last met. Miss Phipp's career had been
one of arduous work, punctuated by continental trips and an occasional
period of bad health. "I suppose I have worked too hard," she said.
"The doctors all say so, although I can't say I've ever been aware of
it while I've actually been working. If I can't work I'd just as soon
not live, and I've always had just the work that suited me. It's a
blow to have to give it up. If it hadn't been for my health I should
have been head-mistress of a big school long ago, and I'd have shown
them what women's education could be. Now I've got to settle down to
take two girls instead of two hundred, and I suppose if I try to teach
them anything I shall be thwarted at every turn. Girls ought to be
sent to school. I've no opinion of home education, and these two don't
seem to have been taught anything. I'm low about it, Margaret. Still,
I've got to do it, for a bit anyhow, and if they've got any brains I'll
knock something into them, if I'm allowed to. However, we needn't
worry ourselves about all that now. What have you been doing? Leading
a life of luxury and gaiety, I suppose."
The smile with which she asked her question was affectionate. She had
been a big girl at the school when Margaret Dexter had been a little
one, and had mothered her. Margaret Dexter's father had been a
consulting physician with a large practice. She had lived in different
surroundings from most of her school-fellows.
"I've always had rather more luxury than I cared about," replied Miss
Dexter. "As for gaiety, I don't care about that at all. I'm not cut
out for it."
Her companion regarded her with more attention than she had yet
bestowed. "You have grown to look very sensible," she said.
"Thanks," replied Miss Dexter. "That means that my appearance is not
prepossessing. I've always known that, and it doesn't bother me a bit."
Miss Phipp laughed. "It is all coming back to me," she said. "At
first, except that your face is much the same, I should hardly have
recognised you for the little girl I used to be so fond of. But you
haven't altered, Margaret. You are just as direct as ever. I believe
I first taught you to be direct."
"If you did, you had easy ground to work on," replied Miss Dexter.
"I suppose I had. But aren't you doing anything, Margaret? You're not
just spending your life like other rich people--going about and amusing
yourself? You weren't like that as a child."
"I'm not rich," returned Miss Dexter. "My father died too young to
make a lot of money. And as for doing something, I'm companion to Lady
George Dubec."
Miss Phipp was visibly taken aback. "Oh!" she exclaimed; and after a
pause said, "I'm sorry. Still, if you're obliged to earn your living,
I should have thought you might have done something more useful than
going out as a companion to a lady of fashion."
Miss Dexter coloured and then laughed. "It's all coming back to me
too," she said. "That's what you used to call talking straight, and we
used to call Janet's manners. If it is any comfort to you to know it,
I don't have to earn my own living--I only said I wasn't rich. I live
with Virginia Dubec because I love her, and I share some of the
expenses. I'll tell you how much I pay if you like."
"Oh, don't be silly," said Miss Phipp. "You said you were her
companion, and I took that to mean what anybody would. Then you're
_not_ doing anything, and I'm sorry for it. However, we needn't
quarrel about that. What are these people like I'm going to? I've
seen Mrs. Clinton, and on the whole I like her."
"Well, I don't," said Miss Dexter, "and if I weren't such a fool as to
follow Virginia about wherever she wants to go to, as if she were a
baby, I shouldn't go within a mile of Mrs. Clinton. I don't mind
telling you, as you're bound to find out for yourself directly you get
to Kencote, that Virginia is going to marry Captain Clinton, the eldest
son, and the whole family have hitherto turned up their stupid noses at
her. Now he seems to have persuaded them to inspect her and see
whether she'll do, after all. She's worth a hundred of the whole lot
of them put together, except, perhaps, Captain Clinton himself, who has
behaved fairly well. No, I'll do him justice--he's behaved quite well.
He's all right. But Mrs. Clinton--well, you say you like her, but
you'll see; as for Mr. Clinton, he's the most odious, purse-proud,
blood-proud, ignorant old pig you'll find anywhere."
"H'm!'" commented Miss Phipp drily. "Seems a nice sort of family I'm
going to. What's that youth travelling with your Lady Virginia, or
whatever her name is--what's _he_ like?"
"What he looks like," replied Miss Dexter shortly.
"And the girls I'm going to teach?"'
"I don't know them, and don't want to."
"But you will, if you're going to stay in the house. And you must have
heard about them."
"Well, I believe they're rather fun," admitted Miss Dexter grudgingly.
"And they're reported to be clever. Still, they've been boxed up at
home all their lives, and can't know much. I expect you'll have your
work cut out."
"They'll have their work cut out," returned Miss Phipp grimly, "and
they'll have to do it too. I do hate having to go out as a governess,
Margaret."
Miss Dexter glanced at her friend, who was so plain as to be almost
unfeminine, and looked jaded and unwell besides; she had her eyes fixed
on the suburban landscape now flying past at sixty miles an hour, and
something in her aspect caused Miss Dexter's heart to contract. "Poor
old Janet," she said, "I don't suppose it will be as bad as you expect.
I'm a brute to be trying to put you against them. You won't see much
of Mr. Clinton, and he probably won't bother you when you do. As for
Mrs. Clinton, if you want the truth, she once gave me a snub, and I
feel catty about her; so you needn't take any notice of what I say.
The children are real characters, with any amount of brains, and you'll
have a great opportunity with them if you can keep them in order."
Miss Phipp brightened up. "Ah, that's better hearing," she said. "As
for keeping them in order, after a class of thirty High School girls,
that's child's play."
"Well, I don't want to paint _too_ bright a picture," said Miss Dexter,
"and from what I've heard of them I don't think that it will be quite
that."
In the meantime Virginia and Humphrey were getting on very well in
their more luxurious compartment. Humphrey had expressed his pleasure
at the opening up of the home of his fathers to his brother's expectant
bride, and in such a fashion that Virginia had warmed to him and told
him exactly how things stood.
"You see, I'm going on what the shops call 'appro,'" she said. "If
they don't like me they can turn me out again."
"And if they _do_ like you," said Humphrey, "which, of course, they
will----"
"Then all will be well," concluded Virginia.
He looked out of the window before he asked, carelessly, "I suppose
Dick's there?"
"Of course Dick's there," said Virginia. "You don't suppose I should
venture into the lion's den without my Dick to support me, do you?
Dear old Dick! I'm glad he's made it up with your father."
"So am I," said Humphrey, after the minutest pause. "Family quarrels
are the devil and all. And there was no sense in this one. I suppose
he's chucked the idea of Yorkshire, and he's returned to the bosom of
the fold."
"Oh, good gracious, no!" said Virginia. "At least he hasn't said so.
Why should he, anyway? I guess we shall want all the dollars we can
grab at. A wife's an expensive luxury, you know, Mr. Humphrey."
"Especially a wife like you," returned Humphrey genially. "Still, I
shouldn't be surprised if you find Yorkshire 'off' when you get to
Kencote. If the governor has come round about you, he'll probably come
round about--about other things."
"You mean money?" said Virginia. "We're not bothering ourselves about
that."
"_You're_ not, perhaps."
"You mean that Dick is? I don't know anything about it, and I don't
care. That's not what I'm going to Kencote for. Why do men always
think such a lot about money, I wonder?"
"Ah, I wonder," said Humphrey.
The four travellers joined up at Bathgate, where they had to change,
and travelled to Kencote together in a second-class carriage, on
Virginia's decision, which Humphrey accepted with some distaste, but
did not combat.
Dick and the twins were on the platform at Kencote. The twins were
inveterate train-meeters, whenever they were allowed to be, and Dick
had brought them this evening with the idea of packing them and Miss
Dexter and Miss Phipp into one carriage and accompanying Virginia in
the other. But Humphrey had not been expected, and the greeting
between the brothers was not particularly cordial. However, he grasped
the situation when he saw a landau and a brougham in waiting outside
instead of the station omnibus, which he had expected to see, and
solved it by announcing his intention of walking.
"We would come with you, darling," said Joan in an aside, "but we must
see it out with our image. What's she like, Humphrey?"
"Oh, most lovable--as you can see," replied Humphrey, disengaging his
arm and setting out into the darkness.
When the carriage into which the twins had packed themselves with Miss
Phipp and Miss Dexter had rolled off in the wake of the other, Miss
Phipp said, "Well, girls, I hope we shall get on well together. You're
not afraid of hard work, I suppose?"
"Oh no," replied Joan readily; "we're looking forward to it immensely."
"You will find our diligence one of our best points," said Nancy. "If
at first we don't succeed we always try, try, try again."
There was a moment's silence, except for the sharp trot of the horse's
hoofs and the wheels rolling on the frosty road. Then Miss Dexter
laughed suddenly. "There, you're answered," she said to Miss Phipp.
"Let's put them through an examination. What do you know of
mathematics?"
"Don't be foolish, Margaret," said Miss Phipp sharply. "They must not
begin by making fun of their lessons."
"Oh, but we shouldn't think of doing that," said Joan.
"They're far too serious, and we have been taught not to make fun of
serious things," said Nancy.
Miss Dexter laughed again. "What do you know of mathematics?" she
asked.
"Nancy is not good at them," replied Joan. "She got as far as the
asses' bridge in Euclid, with the starling, our last governess, and
then she struck, as you might expect. Her strong point is literature.
She writes poems that bring tears to the eyes."
"Joan's weak point is history," said Nancy. "She thought Henry the
Eighth was a widower when he married Anne Boleyn, and Starling made her
learn all his wives in order before she went to bed."
"That will do, girls," said Miss Phipp firmly. "And if Miss Starling
was the name of your last governess, please call her so."
The ensuing silence was broken by a smothered giggle from Joan, which
Nancy covered up by asking in a rather shaky voice of Miss Dexter
whether she and Miss Phipp had known each other before.
"Yes," said Miss Dexter, "we were at school together--oh, years
ago--and have never seen each other since, until we met on the
platform. Funny, wasn't it? I say, is there a ghost at Kencote?"
"Oh, no, it isn't old enough," replied Joan. "But there's one at the
dower-house--an old man in one boot who goes about looking for the
other one."
"That's a jolly sort of ghost," said Miss Dexter. "Do you know who he
was?"
"He is supposed to have been an ancestor in the time of Charles the
Second--he's dressed like that--who kicked his servant to death,
and----"
"We've got some topping ancestors," put in Nancy. "There's a book
about them. Joan and I read it the other day. One of them was called
Abraham, and he said if he had a name like that he must live up to it,
so he called his sons Jacob and Esau----"
"He only had one and he called him Isaac," interrupted Joan. "You have
got it wrong."
"That will do," said Miss Phipp decisively, and just then the carriage
clattered under the porch and came to a standstill.
The Squire had not been able to bring himself to meet his guests in the
hall, as was the hospitable custom at Kencote. He had meant to do so.
He had given in on the main point on which he had held out so long, and
honestly intended to behave well about it. He had gone to and fro
between his room and the morning-room across the hall, standing first
before the fire near which his wife was sitting, and then reading the
_Times_ for a few minutes in his own easy-chair, and when the wheels of
the first carriage had been heard, and Mrs. Clinton had put aside her
work and risen according to custom, he had gone out with her into the
hall. But when the servants came through to the door he thought that
they cast curious looks at him, as possibly they did, and he bolted
suddenly back to the shelter of his room, and stood there listening,
until the door of the morning-room was shut and the noises outside had
ceased.
Then he grew ashamed of himself. What would Dick think of him? If he
delayed any longer it would look as if he were holding off, after
all--refusing to put at her ease and make welcome a guest in his own
house. So he gathered up his courage, settled his waistcoat, and
walked boldly into the morning-room, and straight up to Miss Dexter,
who was nearest to the door, and with whom he shook hands warmly,
somewhat to her confusion, before he distinguished Virginia, who had
risen when he came in.
Her colour was high, and her eyes sparkling, but she smiled in his
face, and said, as Americans do on an introduction, "Mr. Clinton," and
then waited for him to speak, still standing and looking straight into
his eyes, with the smile that invited friendliness.
The Squire turned away from her somewhat confused, and said, "Tea
ready, Nina? Lady George must be cold after her journey. What sort of
weather was it in London?"
Miss Dexter replied to the question, as his brows had been bent upon
her when it was asked. She said it was rather raw, and the answer
seemed to satisfy him, for he left that subject and remarked that the
Radicals seemed to be making a disgraceful mess of it as usual, and if
this sort of thing went on we should all be driven out of the country.
This led nowhere, and that awful pause seemed likely to ensue where
people ill at ease with one another search for topics to hide up their
discomfort. But Virginia, who had sat down again, said, "Mr. Clinton,
have you ever forgiven us for heading back the fox?"
"Eh! What!" asked the Squire, with a lively recollection of the rebuke
he had administered on the occasion referred to.
Virginia laughed. "You were terrible," she said. "But you had every
right to be terrible. I'd never done such a thing before, and I hope I
shall never do such a thing again. I feel like getting under the sofa
every time I think of it."
The Squire thought the last statement just slightly verging on
indelicacy, but its effect on his mind was only momentary, so relieved
was he at having a subject held out to him. Deep down in his heart he
held to his aversion to Virginia, and nothing in her appearance or
attitude had in the least softened it. But, externally, it had to be
covered up, and because she offered him a covering he was grateful, and
for the moment well disposed towards her.
"Ladies who come into the hunting-field," he said, with a near approach
to a smile, "and turn foxes, must expect to be spoken sharply to."
This was enough for Virginia to go on with, but not for Miss Dexter,
who had heard the words, but missed the smile. "It is like interfering
with a child's toys," she said. "He forgets his manners for the
moment."
The Squire bent a look of puzzled displeasure on her, but before her
words could sink in, Virginia said, "Toby, don't be tiresome. You
don't know anything whatever about hunting, and you are so absurdly
vain that you can't bear to be corrected when you've done wrong."
Dick laughed and said to his mother, "Miss Dexter gets a good deal of
correction and puts up with it like an angel. She's not in the least
vain, really."
"Nothing much to be vain of," said Miss Dexter, with complete
equanimity.
The Squire was still looking at her as if adjusting his mind to her
presence and potentialities, and she looked up at him and said, "Miss
Phipp, your children's governess, is an old friend of mine. We were at
school together." Then she looked down again and took a sip of tea.
The Squire seemed at a loss to know what use to make of this piece of
information, but Dick said, "She looks as if she would be able to
handle them all right."
"You mean that she is plain," said Miss Dexter.
"You seem to be in a very bad humour," Dick retorted.
"She's in an atrocious humour," said Virginia. "She always is when
she's been travelling. She will pick up and be thoroughly amiable when
she's had two cups of tea."
"Do let me give you another one," said Mrs. Clinton, with a kind smile,
and everybody laughed, including the Squire, a second or two late.
Conversation went fairly easily after that, and by and by Mrs. Clinton
took Virginia and Miss Dexter up to their rooms. Never very ready of
speech, she had little to say as they went up the staircase and along
the corridors, but when she had shown them their rooms, which were
adjoining, she asked, "Would you like to come and see the children in
their quarters? I hope they are making Miss Phipp feel at home."
"I should love to," said Virginia; and Miss Dexter said, "They ought to
have come to some understanding by now."
Joan and Nancy were sitting one on either side of Miss Phipp at the
tea-table. Their demure air, which did not quite correspond to the
look in their eyes, probably warned Mrs. Clinton that if any
understanding had been come to it was of a one-sided nature, but Miss
Phipp looked comfortable both in mind and body, and said, as she rose
from the table, "We have been having a good talk about our future
plans. We are going to do a great deal of hard work together, and put
all our minds into it."
The twins, for once, forbore to add to a statement of that nature.
Their bright eyes were fixed full upon Virginia, who smiled radiantly
on them and said, "What a lovely schoolroom you have! I shouldn't mind
working in a room like this."
"It _is_ rather nice," said Joan. "Miss Starling, our last governess,
taught us to keep it in order."
"Miss Starling seems to have taught them some very useful things," said
Miss Phipp, with firm complacency. "She was with you for a good many
years, was she not, Mrs. Clinton?"
"Her name was 'Miss Bird,'" said Mrs. Clinton. "We were all very fond
of her, and the boys gave her a nickname out of affection."
"Oh!" said Miss Phipp, casting a glance of disapproval on the twins,
who met it with eyes of blameless innocence.
Later on when the twins went to their room to change their frocks they
dismissed Hannah from attendance on them. "We have something to talk
over," said Joan, "and we can do without you this evening."
"You had better wait outside on the mat and we'll call you if we want
you," said Nancy.
"Indeed, Miss Nancy, I should demean myself by doing no such thing,"
said the indignant Hannah. "If you wish to talk between yourselves as
well I know what you want to talk about, though deny it you may,
straight downstairs do I go, and you may do your 'airs yourself, for I
shall not come up again till it's time to tidy."
"Hurry up," said Nancy. "We'll ring if we want you."
When Hannah had departed Joan said, "Well, what do you think of her"
"Who do you mean--Virginia, or Pipp, or Toby?"
"Virginia, of course. I think she's rather sweet. She's worth ten of
sweet Sue Clinton, anyhow."
"That's not saying much for her. I think she's all right, though. But
I haven't seen any signs of the chocolates yet."
"What chocolates?"
"I thought she'd be sure, to bring us a great big expensive box tied up
with pink ribbons, so as to make friends with us and get us on her
side."
"I shouldn't have thought nearly so much of her if she had. What I
like about her is that she doesn't toady. She knows she's got to make
a good impression, but she doesn't show she's trying. I'm sure mother
likes her."
"We haven't seen her with father yet."
"We shall at dinner. I really think she's rather a darling, Nancy. I
think I shall give in."
Nancy announced her intention of holding out a little longer just to
make sure. "She's just the merest trifle too sweet for my taste," she
said. "I must be quite certain that it's part of her first."
"I'm sure it's part of her," said Joan. "She isn't any sweeter than
Aunt Grace, and you like her."
"Aunt Grace is too sweet for my taste, although it is part of her, and
isn't put on. I like people with more character. Toby, now--she's a
ripper."
"Yes, I like her," admitted Joan. "She likes us too. I think she
wants to egg us on to deal with Pipp."
"We shan't want much egging. We've got her a bit puzzled already. I
don't think she's a bad sort, you know, Joan. I thought she'd give us
bread and water when mother went away."
"She's not quite sure of herself yet. We'll go on playing at being
High School girls for a bit. It's rather fun. Don't they wear their
hair in pigtails?"
"We might plait our hair after breakfast to-morrow. And they always
say 'Yes, Miss Phipp,' 'No, Miss Phipp.' You know that story we read?"
"We'll go through it again. We'll do all the proper things at lesson
time, and outside the schoolroom we'll be our own sweet selves. It
will be rather a bore going for walks with her."
"She can't be allowed to be instructive then."
"Rather not. She'll want firm handling, but I think we shall be equal
to it."
"It may come to a tussle. But we've only got to keep our heads. There
are two of us, and there's only one of her. We'll be kind but firm,
and when she's learnt her place I dare say we shall get on all right,
and everything will go swimmingly. What _has_ Hannah done with my
hair-ribbon? Ring the bell loud, Joan, and go on ringing till she
comes up."