The Eldest Son Part 41

"Joan's weak point is history," said Nancy. "She thought Henry the Eighth was a widower when he married Anne Boleyn, and Starling made her learn all his wives in order before she went to bed."

"That will do, girls," said Miss Phipp firmly. "And if Miss Starling was the name of your last governess, please call her so."

The ensuing silence was broken by a smothered giggle from Joan, which Nancy covered up by asking in a rather shaky voice of Miss Dexter whether she and Miss Phipp had known each other before.

"Yes," said Miss Dexter, "we were at school together--oh, years ago--and have never seen each other since, until we met on the platform. Funny, wasn't it? I say, is there a ghost at Kencote?"

"Oh, no, it isn't old enough," replied Joan. "But there's one at the dower-house--an old man in one boot who goes about looking for the other one."

"That's a jolly sort of ghost," said Miss Dexter. "Do you know who he was?"

"He is supposed to have been an ancestor in the time of Charles the Second--he's dressed like that--who kicked his servant to death, and----"

"We've got some topping ancestors," put in Nancy. "There's a book about them. Joan and I read it the other day. One of them was called Abraham, and he said if he had a name like that he must live up to it, so he called his sons Jacob and Esau----"

"He only had one and he called him Isaac," interrupted Joan. "You have got it wrong."

"That will do," said Miss Phipp decisively, and just then the carriage clattered under the porch and came to a standstill.

The Squire had not been able to bring himself to meet his guests in the hall, as was the hospitable custom at Kencote. He had meant to do so.

He had given in on the main point on which he had held out so long, and honestly intended to behave well about it. He had gone to and fro between his room and the morning-room across the hall, standing first before the fire near which his wife was sitting, and then reading the _Times_ for a few minutes in his own easy-chair, and when the wheels of the first carriage had been heard, and Mrs. Clinton had put aside her work and risen according to custom, he had gone out with her into the hall. But when the servants came through to the door he thought that they cast curious looks at him, as possibly they did, and he bolted suddenly back to the shelter of his room, and stood there listening, until the door of the morning-room was shut and the noises outside had ceased.

Then he grew ashamed of himself. What would d.i.c.k think of him? If he delayed any longer it would look as if he were holding off, after all--refusing to put at her ease and make welcome a guest in his own house. So he gathered up his courage, settled his waistcoat, and walked boldly into the morning-room, and straight up to Miss Dexter, who was nearest to the door, and with whom he shook hands warmly, somewhat to her confusion, before he distinguished Virginia, who had risen when he came in.

Her colour was high, and her eyes sparkling, but she smiled in his face, and said, as Americans do on an introduction, "Mr. Clinton," and then waited for him to speak, still standing and looking straight into his eyes, with the smile that invited friendliness.

The Squire turned away from her somewhat confused, and said, "Tea ready, Nina? Lady George must be cold after her journey. What sort of weather was it in London?"

Miss Dexter replied to the question, as his brows had been bent upon her when it was asked. She said it was rather raw, and the answer seemed to satisfy him, for he left that subject and remarked that the Radicals seemed to be making a disgraceful mess of it as usual, and if this sort of thing went on we should all be driven out of the country.

This led nowhere, and that awful pause seemed likely to ensue where people ill at ease with one another search for topics to hide up their discomfort. But Virginia, who had sat down again, said, "Mr. Clinton, have you ever forgiven us for heading back the fox?"

"Eh! What!" asked the Squire, with a lively recollection of the rebuke he had administered on the occasion referred to.

Virginia laughed. "You were terrible," she said. "But you had every right to be terrible. I'd never done such a thing before, and I hope I shall never do such a thing again. I feel like getting under the sofa every time I think of it."

The Squire thought the last statement just slightly verging on indelicacy, but its effect on his mind was only momentary, so relieved was he at having a subject held out to him. Deep down in his heart he held to his aversion to Virginia, and nothing in her appearance or att.i.tude had in the least softened it. But, externally, it had to be covered up, and because she offered him a covering he was grateful, and for the moment well disposed towards her.

"Ladies who come into the hunting-field," he said, with a near approach to a smile, "and turn foxes, must expect to be spoken sharply to."

This was enough for Virginia to go on with, but not for Miss Dexter, who had heard the words, but missed the smile. "It is like interfering with a child's toys," she said. "He forgets his manners for the moment."

The Squire bent a look of puzzled displeasure on her, but before her words could sink in, Virginia said, "Toby, don't be tiresome. You don't know anything whatever about hunting, and you are so absurdly vain that you can't bear to be corrected when you've done wrong."

d.i.c.k laughed and said to his mother, "Miss Dexter gets a good deal of correction and puts up with it like an angel. She's not in the least vain, really."

"Nothing much to be vain of," said Miss Dexter, with complete equanimity.

The Squire was still looking at her as if adjusting his mind to her presence and potentialities, and she looked up at him and said, "Miss Phipp, your children's governess, is an old friend of mine. We were at school together." Then she looked down again and took a sip of tea.

The Squire seemed at a loss to know what use to make of this piece of information, but d.i.c.k said, "She looks as if she would be able to handle them all right."

"You mean that she is plain," said Miss Dexter.

"You seem to be in a very bad humour," d.i.c.k retorted.

"She's in an atrocious humour," said Virginia. "She always is when she's been travelling. She will pick up and be thoroughly amiable when she's had two cups of tea."

"Do let me give you another one," said Mrs. Clinton, with a kind smile, and everybody laughed, including the Squire, a second or two late.

Conversation went fairly easily after that, and by and by Mrs. Clinton took Virginia and Miss Dexter up to their rooms. Never very ready of speech, she had little to say as they went up the staircase and along the corridors, but when she had shown them their rooms, which were adjoining, she asked, "Would you like to come and see the children in their quarters? I hope they are making Miss Phipp feel at home."

"I should love to," said Virginia; and Miss Dexter said, "They ought to have come to some understanding by now."

Joan and Nancy were sitting one on either side of Miss Phipp at the tea-table. Their demure air, which did not quite correspond to the look in their eyes, probably warned Mrs. Clinton that if any understanding had been come to it was of a one-sided nature, but Miss Phipp looked comfortable both in mind and body, and said, as she rose from the table, "We have been having a good talk about our future plans. We are going to do a great deal of hard work together, and put all our minds into it."

The twins, for once, forbore to add to a statement of that nature.

Their bright eyes were fixed full upon Virginia, who smiled radiantly on them and said, "What a lovely schoolroom you have! I shouldn't mind working in a room like this."

"It _is_ rather nice," said Joan. "Miss Starling, our last governess, taught us to keep it in order."

"Miss Starling seems to have taught them some very useful things," said Miss Phipp, with firm complacency. "She was with you for a good many years, was she not, Mrs. Clinton?"

"Her name was 'Miss Bird,'" said Mrs. Clinton. "We were all very fond of her, and the boys gave her a nickname out of affection."

"Oh!" said Miss Phipp, casting a glance of disapproval on the twins, who met it with eyes of blameless innocence.

Later on when the twins went to their room to change their frocks they dismissed Hannah from attendance on them. "We have something to talk over," said Joan, "and we can do without you this evening."

"You had better wait outside on the mat and we'll call you if we want you," said Nancy.

"Indeed, Miss Nancy, I should demean myself by doing no such thing,"

said the indignant Hannah. "If you wish to talk between yourselves as well I know what you want to talk about, though deny it you may, straight downstairs do I go, and you may do your 'airs yourself, for I shall not come up again till it's time to tidy."

"Hurry up," said Nancy. "We'll ring if we want you."

When Hannah had departed Joan said, "Well, what do you think of her"

"Who do you mean--Virginia, or Pipp, or Toby?"

"Virginia, of course. I think she's rather sweet. She's worth ten of sweet Sue Clinton, anyhow."

"That's not saying much for her. I think she's all right, though. But I haven't seen any signs of the chocolates yet."

"What chocolates?"

"I thought she'd be sure, to bring us a great big expensive box tied up with pink ribbons, so as to make friends with us and get us on her side."

"I shouldn't have thought nearly so much of her if she had. What I like about her is that she doesn't toady. She knows she's got to make a good impression, but she doesn't show she's trying. I'm sure mother likes her."