A LITTLE BREEZE.
“Who is that old woman I met on the stairs just now?” inquired Mr.
Fleetwood, late in the afternoon of the day made memorable by the
entrance of Mrs. Jeckyl into the Dainty family.
“It is our new governess,” replied Agnes, to whom the question was
addressed. A look of disgust marred her face as she spoke.
“Your new governess!” exclaimed Uncle John, in amazement. “When did she
come, and where from?”
“She came two hours ago; but whether she dropped from the clouds, or
was dug out of the earth, is more than I can tell. She’s horrible! I
don’t know what’s come over mother!”
“Who is she? What is her name?”
“A wicked-looking old woman, whom mother calls an accomplished English
lady. Her name is Jeckyl.”
“Jeckyl? Jeckyl?” Uncle John shook his head. “Never heard of her
before.”
“Nor anybody else but mother. And where she found her, the dear only
knows!”
“Why was Florence Harper sent away?”
A sad expression came into the face of Agnes, as she replied,—
“My fault, I suppose. In my blind self-will, I resisted her when she
was right and I was wrong; and I complained of her unjustly. Mother
talked very roughly to her,—she’s always done that; and then—and then,
I believe, Miss Harper went away.”
“Miss Harper was a kind, good girl,” said Uncle John, “and tried always
to do what was right. I am sorry you misunderstood or resisted her, for
she was the best friend you will ever find in a governess.”
“I know she was, uncle; and I have learned it just too late. Oh, I
would give any thing in the world to have her back again.”
“I must see your mother at once,” said Uncle John. “Where is she?”
“In her own room.”
“Will you say that I want her?”
Agnes went to her mother’s room.
“Uncle John wishes to see you,” said she.
“What does he want to see me about?” asked Mrs. Dainty.
“I don’t know. He’s waiting for you over in the sitting-room.”
“Tell him I’m engaged just now.”
But that reply didn’t suit Uncle John at all. His niece had no business
to be engaged, to him!
“What is she doing?” he inquired of Agnes.
“Reading.”
“Ah, well! If she can’t come to me, I can, at least, go to her.” And
Uncle John left the sitting-room. Mrs. Dainty started and looked
confused as Mr. Fleetwood entered her chamber.
“Very particularly engaged?” said the old gentleman, a little
sarcastically.
“I didn’t imagine that your business was one of life and death!”
retorted Mrs. Dainty, with heightening color.
“And yet it may be, for all your defect of imagination,” said the old
man, seating himself with the air of one who had something on his mind.
“Where is Florence Harper?”
“That is a question not in my power to answer,” replied Mrs. Dainty.
“She left here some hours ago.”
“Why did she leave?”
“I sent her away.”
“For what cause?”
“She did not suit me.”
“In what respect?”
“In all respects.”
“A sweeping range of objections, truly. May I ask another question?”
“Forty, if you like.”
“Who is that old woman I met on the stairs a little while ago?”
“Old woman! I’ve seen no _old woman_.” Mrs. Dainty emphasized the last
words.
“A middle-aged woman, then, with a hard—almost wicked—face. She was
dressed in black.”
“Our new governess, probably,” said Mrs. Dainty.
“That old hag your new governess!” Uncle John felt outraged, and spoke
intemperately.
“I beg of you not to use such language, Uncle John.” Mrs. Dainty
affected calmness, and spoke in a tone of quiet rebuke. “The person to
whom you refer is an accomplished English lady, whose husband—a man of
rank, I believe—died in the East India Company’s service.”
“Poh! A cast-off, superannuated lady’s maid, more like!” retorted Uncle
John, with overflowing indignation.
“This is insufferable!” exclaimed Mrs. Dainty, losing temper.
“What is insufferable?”
It was Uncle John’s turn to assume an exterior calmness.
“Your unwarrantable interference in our family concerns! It has come
to a pretty pass when I cannot even buy a beefsteak, or turn off a
disorderly domestic, but you must interfere in the matter and volunteer
an ignorant condemnation. To tell you the plain truth, Uncle John, I am
getting very tired of this, and wish it to end. I didn’t consult you
about this affair, because I didn’t think it one in which you had any
rights or interest.”
“Indeed! You ignore my interests quite summarily. Pray, did you consult
your husband?” inquired Mr. Fleetwood.
“No, I did not!” was replied. “There was no occasion to worry his mind
on the subject.”
“Probably you thought he had no more right in the case than your
troublesome old uncle,” said Mr. Fleetwood, sarcastically.
“Whether he had or not doesn’t signify in the present controversy,”
replied Mrs. Dainty, still showing a great deal of angry excitement. “I
chose to send away an offensive, upstart American girl, who didn’t know
her place, and who kept the children by the ears half of the time, and
take in her stead an accomplished, middle-aged lady, with years and
experience on her side. I have no question in regard to my husband’s
acquiescence, and therefore shall not permit you to hector me on the
subject. So pray, Uncle John, spare me any further annoyance! It will
only tend to produce, in both of us, states of unkindness.”
“Where so much is at stake, I must venture much,” said Mr. Fleetwood.
“I pray you, in turn, be not offended, if I press you on this subject.
The love I bear for you and these children will not let me keep
silence. You have strangely misapprehended Florence Harper. She——”
“Uncle John!” Mrs. Dainty interrupted the old gentleman, “I have shut
the door against her: so let her name die in this house. I shall not
consent to canvass with you either her good or evil qualities. I know
just as much of her as I ever care to know.”
“What do you know of this Mrs. Jeckyl, to whom, in such mad haste, you
have given over the care of your children? An accomplished English
lady? Is that the extent of your knowledge? Did you ever hear of her
before to-day?”
“Go on, Uncle John! Go on! I will try to be patient!” said Mrs.
Dainty, leaning back in her chair and forcing to her lips a smile of
resignation.
“A fig for your patience! Answer me in reason!” retorted the old
gentleman.
“I will when I make you my father confessor; but not before. I have no
need at present for such a ghostly appendage.”
In this spirit the controversy went on for more than half an hour, no
advantage whatever being gained by Uncle John. Mrs. Dainty said that
she had tried a governess of his selection, and tried her faithfully;
and now she was going to try one of her own choosing, and, if he talked
until doomsday, it would not, in the smallest degree, affect her
purposes in the case.
Most reluctantly did Mr. Fleetwood consent to abandon the argument. He
felt that too much was at stake. But a woman’s will in the case was
altogether too strong for him. Mrs. Dainty had made up her mind to have
her own way, and all remonstrance, argument, and persuasion went with
her for nothing.