THE news traveled quickly. Dear Dolores received it almost at once;
and received it, moreover, with a modesty that did credit to her
self-respect; but as she turned her prompt attention to Bradshaw’s
Guide she could hardly refrain from humming “Any Time’s Kissing Time”
and kindred melodies from Chu Chin Chow. After all, it is neither just
nor wise to exact too much of human nature.
The second person to be informed was General Norris. That gentleman,
who had just returned from his morning constitutional, was in the act
of crossing the hall when he suddenly found himself involved in a riot.
Master Peter and Miss Joan burst out of the schoolroom dancing a sort
of fandango.
“She’s got the sack, she’s got the sack!”--Miss Joan.
“Hooray, Hooray, Hooray!”--Master Peter.
Explanations were immediately demanded. Explanations were at once
forthcoming.
“You might almost be said to be pleased,” was the sad comment of George
Norris at the end of their thrilling story. And he was such a very
simple young man that the sound of his voice suggested tears.
“What do _you_ think?” The idiom of Miss Joan was a little primitive,
no doubt--she took after her father’s side, poor dear child! “She a
perfect beast, isn’t she, Pe-tah?”
“A norrible beast,” Petah agreed.
But in the eyes of George Norris there was a look that seemed to
contradict them flatly.
He was such a naïf young man that the lurid story of the morning’s
war, which to be sure lost nothing in the telling, came as quite a
shock. And the shock left him sore, rueful, angry. He was not at all
inclined to accept the tale in all its nakedness--things had been left
out, things had been put in--and as he had known from the first, these
unsportsmanlike women had had “an awful down” on the little governess.
The crux of the matter was that she was a rather special kind of
governess. Only too evidently she was used to the best people and the
best houses. George Norris was too good a sportsman himself to be hard
upon Mrs. T.-S. from whom he had received many kindnesses or upon
Miss P. who was by way of being a dasher, but the trouble with these
ladies was that they were quite unable to forgive Miss Cass her trick
of making them look cheap. A minx, of course, a perfectly charming
minx who spent her time scoring them off. She had deserved all she had
got. But as man is the being he is in the world of the present, George
Norris would have liked beyond all things just now to have knocked the
heads of Master Peter and Miss Joan together.
The young man in his distress, which he had neither the art nor the
tact to conceal, sought Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson. He found her seated
at a writing table in the morning room. And flanking her, in a low
chair by the fire, was Miss Parbury poring over with an air of intense
absorption, the intricate pages of Bradshaw’s Guide.
“There’s a train at a quarter-past two, I see,” Miss Parbury announced
as General Norris entered the room.
“That is the one. She must go by that.” Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson dipped
her pen augustly. “Tell me, what’s the date, dear?”
Miss Parbury had a doubt as to the date, but General Norris succinctly
furnished it from the top of _The Times_ newspaper which providentially
was at hand.
Dear Canon Carnaby,
It is with the greatest reluctance that I write to tell you that the
governess whom you recommended so highly has not been a success. In
fact, she has proved so altogether unsatisfactory that I am having to
dispense with her services at a moment’s notice. You will be grieved
to learn that I am unable to give her a reference. In my humble
opinion she is wholly unsuited to the care of young children. Her
temper, to put the case mildly, is under imperfect control and much as
it distresses me to have to say so, she does not invariably speak the
truth; also her manners leave much to be desired. On several occasions
she has been openly and intentionally disrespectful. I am sorry to
have to write in this way of one who has been able to recommend
herself to your kindness, but it seems right that you should know the
sort of person she really is.
With kind regards, believe me, very sincerely yours,