THE GOVERNESS DISMISSED.
“How do you like your governess?” inquired a fashionable friend, who
was making a call upon Mrs. Dainty.
Mrs. Dainty shook her head and pursed up her lips in a vulgar way that
was natural to her.
“Not perfect, of course,” said the friend.
“No,—not within a thousand miles of perfection.”
“An American girl, I presume?”
“Yes.” The lip of Mrs. Dainty assumed a curl of contempt.
“Poor American girls are an indifferent set,” remarked the lady. “A’n’t
you afraid that your children will, imperceptibly, imbibe her low
habits and vulgar ways of speaking?”
“Yes; that is my greatest fear. Already I think I see a change.”
“I wouldn’t keep her an hour, if that were the case,” said the lady.
“No, not for the fraction of an hour!” she added, with emphasis. “I
had almost as soon see my children vicious as vulgar; for vice may be
eradicated, but vulgarity is a stain nothing can polish out.”
“And, to add to her offence,” remarked Mrs. Dainty, “she has assumed an
upstart authority which has kept the house in hot water ever since she
came into it. The children, and particularly Agnes, will not submit to
her rules and exactions.”
“Why don’t you pack her off? I’d do it in less than no time,” said the
refined acquaintance.
“I’ve about made up my mind to do it, and in spite of all opposition.”
“Opposition! Who has any right to oppose?”
“That fussy old uncle of mine is always meddling in our affairs,—Uncle
John.”
“Why do you keep him about the house?”
“He’s my mother’s brother,” replied Mrs. Dainty. She could have given a
better reason; but it would have been at the expense of an exposure of
selfishness she did not care to make.
“If he were my mother’s great-grandfather, he couldn’t find harbor in
my house if he interfered in what didn’t concern him,” said the lady.
Mrs. Dainty sighed. Uncle John was a great trouble to her, for he
would say what he thought and do what he pleased. But then Uncle John
owned the house they lived in, which they occupied rent free, or in
compensation for board. And, moreover, Uncle John was worth two or
three dollars where her not over-thrifty husband was worth one. No, no.
It wouldn’t just answer to turn Uncle John out of the house; for that
would be a losing business.
“If I could only find the right stamp of a governess,” said Mrs.
Dainty, sighing again.
“I think I know a person who would just suit you.”
“Oh, indeed! Where can I see her?”
“Have you any acquaintance with Mrs. Ashton?”
“No,—though I have long desired to be numbered among her friends.”
“Only yesterday she mentioned to me,” said the visitor, “that she knew
a highly-accomplished English lady, a widow, whose husband died in the
East India Company’s service, and asked me to bear her in remembrance
if I should hear of any one who wanted a governess.”
“How fortunate!” exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. “An educated English lady! What
more could I desire?”
“Nothing. Shall I speak to Mrs. Ashton about you, and learn the lady’s
address?”
“By all means. Won’t you see her this very day?”
“If you desire it.”
“Oh, I do desire it above all things.”
“I will see the lady for you.”
“How kind of you!”
“Shall I say that you wish to engage her?”
“Oh, by all means!”
“What will you do with your American girl?” asked the lady.
“Give her notice to quit immediately. She shall not pass another night
under this roof: my mind is made up to that. The way she has acted this
day decides me.”
“At what time shall I tell this English lady to call?”
“I will see her at four this afternoon.”
“Very well.”
“In the mean time I will close up matters with Miss Harper.”
“Is that the name of your present governess?” inquired the lady,
evincing some interest.
“Yes.”
“Florence Harper?”
“Yes. Do you know any thing about her?”
“I knew her mother when I was a girl,” replied the lady,—“though I
never fancied her a great deal. She had too much mock dignity for me.
She married very well, and for some time moved in moderately good
society. But her husband failed in business several years ago, and
died shortly afterward, I think. So it is her daughter you have for
a governess! How things will come around! There was a time when she
seemed to think I wasn’t good enough to associate with her; and now her
daughter has come down to the position of a hireling. Well, well! Isn’t
this a queer world? If Florence is like her mother, I don’t think she
will suit.”
“She puts on airs above her station,” said Mrs. Dainty.
“An inherited fault. Her mother had a way of looking down upon
everybody. I couldn’t bear her!”
“Humph! This spawn of hers actually assumed to put herself on a level
with me, and to ‘approve’ my opinions in regard to the children’s
education! I was too provoked!”
“You’ll always have trouble with her,” said the lady. “The stock isn’t
right. Is Agnes taking lessons in music?” she inquired, in a pause that
followed. The sound of a piano had for some time been heard.
Mrs. Dainty drew out her watch as she answered in the affirmative. She
saw that it was half-past twelve o’clock. A moment or two she listened,
while a serious expression came into her face.
“I don’t like that,” said she.
“What?”
“This girl is bound to have her way, I see!”
“Who?”
“Why, Miss Harper. There’s been a contention between her and Agnes
about the hour at which the music-lesson shall be given. Agnes wished
to take it at ten o’clock; but Miss Harper said twelve. I told her two
hours ago to give Agnes her lesson. But you see how it is! She means to
be mistress. I’m too provoked!”
“If she begins by domineering over your children in this way, what will
it be in the end? I only wonder that a girl like Agnes would submit.”
“It is the last music-lesson she gives in this house,” said Mrs.
Dainty. “My mind is made up to that. Send me the English lady, and I
will engage her on the spot. Tell her that I would like her to come
this very day, if it is agreeable. I will send Miss Harper away, and
take her without consulting anybody. When the thing is done, Uncle John
may scold to his heart’s content. He can’t change the fact.”
And so the thing was settled. At dinner-time Mrs. Dainty maintained a
perfect silence in regard to the governess. Agnes looked subdued. Her
mother noticed this, and her blood grew hot as she imagined the cause
to be a crushed spirit under the iron rule of Miss Harper. Uncle John
had made it his business to see a great deal more of what was going
on than any one imagined. He understood the state of Agnes’s mind far
better than did her mother. All was coming right, he saw, and his wise
heart, so full of interest for the children, felt a burden of care
removed. After dinner he went out.
“Just what I wished for,” said Mrs. Dainty to herself, as she saw him
take his hat and cane. “I will make clean work of it with this ‘angel’
of yours: see if I don’t!”
“Tell Miss Harper that I wish to see her in my room,” Mrs. Dainty spoke
to a servant, half an hour later. The servant carried the message to
the governess, who obeyed the summons without a moment’s delay.
“I have sent for you, Miss Harper, to say what you must have yourself
inferred,—that you will not suit me for a governess.”
Mrs. Dainty spoke coldly,—almost severely. That Florence was surprised,
her suddenly-heightened color showed plainly. She caught her breath,
and, for a few moments, looked bewildered. Mrs. Dainty observed this,
and said,—
“You have no reason to be surprised or disappointed, miss. I told
you in the beginning that I didn’t think you would suit; and I have
never seen cause for a moment to change my mind since you came into
the house. Instead of falling into your place and doing your duty as
became one in your position, you have done nothing but keep me and
the children in hot water from the day you entered the house. When
you get a good situation again, take my advice, and be content with a
hireling’s place, and don’t assume the airs of a mistress. No lady will
have her children domineered over as you have domineered over mine.”
“Mrs. Dainty, I repel——”
“Not a word to me, miss! Not a word to me!” replied the lady,
imperiously. “I permit no one in my house to answer back. Here are your
wages for the time you have been instructing the children. Take the
money, and go!”
Miss Harper did not touch the money, but turned away, and was leaving
the room.
“Miss Harper!” The voice of Mrs. Dainty had in it a commanding tone.
Florence paused, and turned partly around.
“Why don’t you take the money? say!”
“I cannot receive pay for services that are so poorly regarded,” was
her calmly-spoken answer.
“Impudent!” Miss Harper turned away again.
“Stop!” The foot of Mrs. Dainty jarred on the floor. Miss Harper looked
back.
“Don’t see one of the children; but go off with yourself immediately!”
The young governess flitted away almost as noiselessly as a spirit. At
the same moment Mrs. Dainty rung her bell violently. To the servant who
answered, she said,—
“Tell all the children to come to my room.”
“They shall see who is mistress in this house.” (So she talked with
herself in the interval.) “Uncle John has had his way a little too
long. But there is a point beyond which patience ceases to be a virtue;
and I have arrived at that point.”
“What do you want, mamma?” asked Madeline, as she came with Agnes and
her little brother into her mother’s apartment.
“I want you to stay here with me,” was the cold answer.
“Can’t I go back to Miss Harper? She was telling us such a sweet story
when you sent for her.”
“No; you can’t go back. You must stay here.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I’m going back to Miss Harper. I like her
better than anybody in this house.” And little self-willed George made
for the door, in his determined way.
“You George! Come back this instant!” cried his mother, in anger.
“A’n’t a-going to,” replied the little rebel.
“George!”
“A’n’t a-going to!” sounded resolutely down from the stairs.
“I’ll punish you!”
“Don’t care! Miss Harper! Miss Harper!”
Almost like a fury did the mother rush away after her child. He heard
her coming, and ran to Miss Harper for protection. She had gone to her
own apartment: not seeing her in the study-room, the child knew where
to find her.
“Go back to your mother, George!” said Florence, speaking firmly, but
kindly, as the child rushed toward her.
“A’n’t a-going to!”
“Oh, yes; Georgie must.”
“No, no! A’n’t a-going to!”
“This is the way you encourage disobedience in my children!” exclaimed
Mrs. Dainty, as she swept into the room at the moment when Miss Harper
was stooping down to kiss the little boy in the fulness of her swelling
love. “Out of my house! and quickly!”
Grasping George by an arm, she bore him, screaming, from the room; and,
as his cries came back to her from the distance, Miss Harper could hear
mingling with them the sound of passionate blows.
“Poor children!” she said. “There is good in them, but how sadly
overgrown by weeds! With such a mother, what hope is there? But I must
not linger here. For their sakes I would have remained, even though
suffering insult daily. No choice is left me, however, and I must go.”
As Miss Harper passed the door of Mrs. Dainty’s room, on her way
down-stairs, dressed to leave the house, she heard the sobbing of
George and Madeline, mingled with stormy words that were passing
between Agnes and her mother. The purport of these she did not stop to
hear, but hurried on, and, without seeing or speaking to any one, took
her silent departure.