PRINCIPIA

_June continued, but nearer the end, and hotter._

Polly Pretend's governess, after she could not be received at Olympia,

was Miss Principia Crow. She had more than three miles of testimonials,

if all had been written out in a line in text hand and measured.

The only curious thing was that the dates of all these were old, and

Miss Principia was still fairly young. Also, she admitted having changed

her name "for family reasons."

But she seemed just the sort of person for Polly Pretend. She did not

know much arithmetic--just enough to cheat at tennis. She had

certificates that reached as far as "trig"--the wonderful science which

makes the boys stamp and throw their books about the room when they have

to study it.

Now Pa and Ma Pretend had taken a great deal of trouble in providing a

suitable companion for Polly, and in a way they had managed all right.

Miss Crow pretended to teach, and Polly pretended to learn, and one knew

as much about the matter as the other.

Miss Crow passed the time in telling Polly how many people had been in

love with her, and the hopes she had of as many more. Polly begged the

loan of a pier-glass from her mother, and thought, as she pretended

before it, smiling at herself and sweeping imaginary trains, how soon

her turn would come to have scores of lovers all willing and anxious to

drown themselves for her sake, like Miss Principia Crow.

Fragments of conversation were sometimes caught by Mamma Pretend, and

she thought to herself, "What strange authors they do set young people

to study now-a-days! When I was a girl we had _Magnall's Questions_ and

_Little Arthur's History of England_!"

It was Miss Crow's voice, however. No mistake about that.

"Yes, and he said to me, 'I adore you with all the fervor of a free and

untrammeled genius, with the noble indignation of a spirit on fire

against wrong and oppression. It is true that in the meantime, though

of an exalted race, I am poor, receiving only twelve shillings a week in

one of the institutions of trust vulgarly called a pawn-broker's. But

next year and every succeeding year I shall have my salary raised by the

sum of two shillings--per fortnight. Oh, Principia, my Principia----'"

At this moment, overcome by her own pardonable curiosity, Mrs. Pretend

entered hurriedly to see what they were doing.

She found them busily employed, with head bent over an exercise in

dictation.... "From Milton's Essay on Macaulay!" Miss Polly Pretend

explained in answer to her mother's question.

"Dear me," said Mrs. Pretend, as she went out, "and I always thought

that Milton wrote poetry. It's true I never could make out how they

could say that blank verse was really poetry--not, I mean, like 'How

doth the little busy' and 'Twinkle, twinkle'! But he wrote a long time

ago, and perhaps then they had not learned to make the words at the end

rhyme!"

But now I must tell how Polly Pretend corrupted the whole house. At

first we had only called Polly's father and mother "the Pretends"

because they belonged to Polly, and so that we might know who was meant.

But to begin with, Mrs. Pretend had to make up a lot of things to

explain why, after all these prizes, Polly had not gone back to Olympia

School. She had to think up something that people would believe. You

see, Polly's inventions were really too daring--as that after a year

abroad she and Miss Crow were going to set up a college of their own, a

far better one than Olympia. And then she would show Miss Gray!

Now you will hardly believe me, but old Pretend, who was on the County

Council and fussed about roads and drainage--"an innocent enough old

duck," Sir Toady calls him--took to magnifying Miss Polly Pretend and

her governess. I think he actually began to count up his dollars to see

if he had really enough money to start Polly Pretend in a school of her

own. But one fine day he met old Lovell, of Castle Lovell, at some joint

business meeting about a Combination Poorhouse, or something like that.

Now old Lovell is a fearful big-wig, and looked up to by everybody

because he is too stupid ever to pretend the least little bit. He would

get found out in a moment if he did. But solid as the Bank of England,

and as conceited as Mir-row with a rosette tied to her tail last King's

birthday!

And old Lovell said, "I hear you have a Miss Crow to be governess to

your little child! I think I ought to know her!"

"Ye-es!" said Father Pretend slowly. He did not like to hear a young

lady who was going to set up a school next year to rival Olympia itself

called "your little child."

But he could not afford to fall out with old Lovell, who always seemed

as wise as a bench of judges and as rich-looking as a jeweler's shop

which can afford to keep its blinds down. So he only said, "My daughter

is not _quite_ a child!"

"Oh," said old Lovell, "then it can't be Lizzie you have for governess!"

"Certainly not!" said Mr. Pretend, much relieved; "her name is

Principia!"

"I thought that was a Latin Grammar or something like that!" said old

Lovell, scratching his head like a bald old parrot.

"Well, perhaps," said Papa Pretend, "it is very likely. Miss Crow has

been educated in all the languages that are--from her youth up!"

Now all would have gone well if only it had not happened that at that

moment Polly and her governess came out of Parkins the pastry-cook's,

where they had been stuffing fruit-cakes.

"Why, Lizzie!" cried old Lovell, shaking Miss Principia heartily by the

hand, "now I am pleased to see you have got on so well. This is my

butler's daughter," he explained, turning to Mr. Pretend, whose mouth

was the shape of a capital O; "it does Lizzie much credit. Because, you

see, she never got any regular schooling, being kept at home to help her

mother in the still-room and with the jams. Good-by, Lizzie! I shall not

forget to inform your father and mother that I have seen you--also John

the gardener, with whom, I understand, you are keeping company, as they

call it. Ah, ha! young people will be young people! Good-by, Pretend!

Good-by! Congratulate you on having the daughter of a respectable man in

your house. She will teach your little girl to make jams, and her

gooseberry-fool will be a marvel, if she is a bit like her mother.

Sensible man, Pretend! Far better to teach your daughter to brew and

bake than all the modern 'ologies' and fiddle-faddle in the world! Keeps

their husbands in better temper. Ah, clever fellow, Pretend! But you

couldn't take an old fellow in, eh, Pretend? I knew all that about

learning Latin grammar was stuff and nonsense. Good-by, good-by! So

long, Lizzie! Don't forget about that gooseberry-fool!"

So off he went, like the rough timber-sided old bargee he was, and left

Mr. Pretend muttering angrily, "Gooseberry-fool! Gooseberry-fool!" As if

he knew very well who the "Gooseberry Fool" was--knew, that is, but had

promised not to tell.

But poor Principia went as white as a sheet and shook like a fly caught

in a spider's web. I'm afraid in her heart she called old Lovell names.

How did it turn out? Oh, the best way in the world. You would hardly

believe. At first, of course, old Pretend was all for packing off

Principia for teaching his child deceit! But he calmed down when he

thought of the lot of money he owed to old Lovell of Castle Lovell, and

of the use that his influence would be to him. Besides, he had boasted

so much about her. So had his wife.

So he not only let Principia stay on, but actually set her to teach

Polly Pretend all she really knew. And she did know about cookery. That

was the real college she had been at, and her mother was a better

professor than all the ladies who gave lessons there. And Polly was

obliged to learn, too, because her father ate all the things she cooked,

and if he had indigestion, why, Polly heard about it, that's all. So she

stopped pretending and really did learn.

And after a while they set up their college with old Pretend's

money--old Lovell's too, and it was called