“I don’t ask you for more than a guinea,” said Mrs. Hilary, with a
parade of forbearance.
“It would be the same,” I replied politely, “if you asked me for a
thousand;” with which I handed her half-a-crown. She held it in her open
hand, regarding it scornfully.
“Yes,” I continued, taking a seat, “I feel that pecuniary gifts--”
“Half-a-crown!”
“Are you a poor substitute for personal service. May not I accompany you
to the ceremony?”
“I dare say you spent as much as this on wine with your lunch!”
“I was in a mad mood today,” I answered apologetically. “What are they
taught at the school?”
“Above all, to be good girls,” said Mrs. Hilary earnestly. “What are you
sneering at, Mr. Carter?”
“Nothing,” said I hastily, and I added with a sigh, “I suppose it’s all
right.”
“I should like,” said Mrs. Hilary meditatively, “if I had not other
duties, to dedicate my life to the service of girls.”
“I should think twice about that, if I were you,” said I, shaking my
head.
“By the way, Mr. Carter, I don’t know if I’ve ever spoken unkindly of
Lady Mickleham. I hope not.”
“Hope,” said I, “is not yet taxed.”
“If I have, I’m very sorry. She’s been most kind in undertaking to give
away the prizes today. There must be some good in her.”
“Oh, don’t be hasty,” I implored.
“I always wanted to think well of her.”
“Ah! Now I never did.”
“And Lord Mickleham is coming, too. He’ll be most useful.”
“That settles it,” I exclaimed. “I may not be an earl, but I have a
perfect right to be useful. I’ll go too.”
“I wonder if you’ll behave properly,” said Mrs. Hilary doubtfully.