Dolly Dialogues [24]
hour allotted to French lessons--by an undesigned but appropriate coincidence."
"I shall say about thirty-five, Phyllis," called Mrs. Hilary from the writing table.
"Yes, Cousin Mary," called Miss Phyllis. "Did you meet often, Mr. Carter?"
"Every evening in the French hour," said I.
"She'll have got over any nonsense by then," called Mrs. Hilary. "They are often full of it."
"She had remarkably pretty hair," I continued; "very soft it was. Dear me! I was just twenty."
"How old was she?" asked Miss Phyllis.
"One's first love," said I, "is never any age. Everything went very well. Happiness was impossible. I was heartbroken, and the governess was far from happy. Ah, happy, happy times!"
"But you don't seem to have been happy," objected Miss Phyllis.
"Then came a terrible evening--"
"She ought to be a person of active habits," called Mrs. Hilary.
"I think so, yes, Cousin Mary; oh, what happened, Mr. Carter?"
"And an early riser," added Mrs. Hilary.
"Yes, Cousin Mary. What did happen, Mr. Carter?"
"My mother came in during the French hour. I don't know whether you have observed, Miss Phyllis, how easy it is to slip into the habit of entering rooms when you had better remain outside. Now, even my friend Arch--However, that's neither here nor there. My mother, as I say, came in."
"Church of England, of course, Phyllis?" called Mrs. Hilary.
"Oh, of course, cousin Mary," cried little Miss Phyllis.
"The sect makes no difference," I observed. "Well, my sisters, like good girls, began to repeat the irregular verbs. But it was no use. We were discovered. That night, Miss Phyllis, I nearly drowned myself."
"You must have been--Oh, how awful, Mr. Carter!"
"That is to say, I thought how effective it would be if I drowned myself. Ah, well, it couldn't last!"
"And the governess?"
"She left next morning."
There was a pause. Miss Phyllis looked sad and thoughtful; I smiled pensively and beat my cane against my leg.
"Have you ever seen her since?" asked Miss Phyllis.
"No."
"Shouldn't--shouldn't you like to, Mr. Carter?"
"Heaven forbid!" said I.
Suddenly Mrs. Hilary pushed back her chair, and turned round to us.
"Well, I declare," said she, "I must be growing stupid. Here have I been writing to the Agency, when I know of the very thing myself! The Polwheedles' governess is just leaving them; she's been there over fifteen years. Lady Polwheedle told me she was a treasure. I wonder if she'd go!"
"Is she what mamma wants?"
"My dear, you'll be most lucky to get her. I'll write at once and ask her to come to lunch tomorrow. I met her there. She's an admirable person."
Mrs. Hilary wheeled round again. I shook my head at Miss Phyllis.
"Poor children!" said I. "Manage a bit of fun for them sometimes."
Miss Phyllis assumed a staid and virtuous air.
"They must be properly brought up, Mr. Carter," said she.
"Is there a House Opposite?" I asked; and Miss Phyllis blushed.
Mrs. Hilary advanced, holding out a letter.
"You may as well post this for me," said she. "Oh, and would you like to come to lunch tomorrow?"
"To meet the Paragon?"
"No. She'll be there, of course; but you see it's Saturday, and Hilary will be here; and I thought you might take him off somewhere and leave Phyllis and me to have a quiet talk with her."
"That won't amuse her much," I ventured to remark.
"She's not coming to be amused," said Mrs. Hilary severely.
"All right; I'll come," said I, taking my hat.
"Here's the note for Miss Bannerman," said Mrs. Hilary.
That sort of thing never surprises me. I looked at the letter and read "Miss M. E. Bannerman." "M. E." stood for "Maud Elizabeth." I put my hat back on the table.
"What sort of a looking person is this Miss Bannerman?" I asked.
"Oh, a spare, upright woman--hair a little gray, and--I don't know how to describe it--her face looks a little weather-beaten. She wears glasses."
"Thank you," said I. "And what sort of a looking person am I?"
Mrs. Hilary looked scornful.
"I shall say about thirty-five, Phyllis," called Mrs. Hilary from the writing table.
"Yes, Cousin Mary," called Miss Phyllis. "Did you meet often, Mr. Carter?"
"Every evening in the French hour," said I.
"She'll have got over any nonsense by then," called Mrs. Hilary. "They are often full of it."
"She had remarkably pretty hair," I continued; "very soft it was. Dear me! I was just twenty."
"How old was she?" asked Miss Phyllis.
"One's first love," said I, "is never any age. Everything went very well. Happiness was impossible. I was heartbroken, and the governess was far from happy. Ah, happy, happy times!"
"But you don't seem to have been happy," objected Miss Phyllis.
"Then came a terrible evening--"
"She ought to be a person of active habits," called Mrs. Hilary.
"I think so, yes, Cousin Mary; oh, what happened, Mr. Carter?"
"And an early riser," added Mrs. Hilary.
"Yes, Cousin Mary. What did happen, Mr. Carter?"
"My mother came in during the French hour. I don't know whether you have observed, Miss Phyllis, how easy it is to slip into the habit of entering rooms when you had better remain outside. Now, even my friend Arch--However, that's neither here nor there. My mother, as I say, came in."
"Church of England, of course, Phyllis?" called Mrs. Hilary.
"Oh, of course, cousin Mary," cried little Miss Phyllis.
"The sect makes no difference," I observed. "Well, my sisters, like good girls, began to repeat the irregular verbs. But it was no use. We were discovered. That night, Miss Phyllis, I nearly drowned myself."
"You must have been--Oh, how awful, Mr. Carter!"
"That is to say, I thought how effective it would be if I drowned myself. Ah, well, it couldn't last!"
"And the governess?"
"She left next morning."
There was a pause. Miss Phyllis looked sad and thoughtful; I smiled pensively and beat my cane against my leg.
"Have you ever seen her since?" asked Miss Phyllis.
"No."
"Shouldn't--shouldn't you like to, Mr. Carter?"
"Heaven forbid!" said I.
Suddenly Mrs. Hilary pushed back her chair, and turned round to us.
"Well, I declare," said she, "I must be growing stupid. Here have I been writing to the Agency, when I know of the very thing myself! The Polwheedles' governess is just leaving them; she's been there over fifteen years. Lady Polwheedle told me she was a treasure. I wonder if she'd go!"
"Is she what mamma wants?"
"My dear, you'll be most lucky to get her. I'll write at once and ask her to come to lunch tomorrow. I met her there. She's an admirable person."
Mrs. Hilary wheeled round again. I shook my head at Miss Phyllis.
"Poor children!" said I. "Manage a bit of fun for them sometimes."
Miss Phyllis assumed a staid and virtuous air.
"They must be properly brought up, Mr. Carter," said she.
"Is there a House Opposite?" I asked; and Miss Phyllis blushed.
Mrs. Hilary advanced, holding out a letter.
"You may as well post this for me," said she. "Oh, and would you like to come to lunch tomorrow?"
"To meet the Paragon?"
"No. She'll be there, of course; but you see it's Saturday, and Hilary will be here; and I thought you might take him off somewhere and leave Phyllis and me to have a quiet talk with her."
"That won't amuse her much," I ventured to remark.
"She's not coming to be amused," said Mrs. Hilary severely.
"All right; I'll come," said I, taking my hat.
"Here's the note for Miss Bannerman," said Mrs. Hilary.
That sort of thing never surprises me. I looked at the letter and read "Miss M. E. Bannerman." "M. E." stood for "Maud Elizabeth." I put my hat back on the table.
"What sort of a looking person is this Miss Bannerman?" I asked.
"Oh, a spare, upright woman--hair a little gray, and--I don't know how to describe it--her face looks a little weather-beaten. She wears glasses."
"Thank you," said I. "And what sort of a looking person am I?"
Mrs. Hilary looked scornful.