Part 18 (2/2)
Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, where she found that in spite of her disparaging sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah could possibly want.
The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy meal. It was not until they had departed with Ayah for more was.h.i.+ngs that Jan found time to say: ”Why don't you take off your hat, Meg dear? I can't see you properly in that extinguisher. Is it the latest fas.h.i.+on?”
”The very latest.”
Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took off her hat.
”There!” she said.
Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except for the soft, tawny rings that framed her face.
”Meg!” Jan cried. ”Why on earth have you cut off your hair?”
”Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into good hard cash. It happens to be the fas.h.i.+onable colour just now.”
”Did you really need to? I thought you were getting quite a good salary with those Hoffmeyers.”
”No English governess gets a _good_ salary in Bremen, and mine was but a modest remuneration, so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady Penelope Pottinger?”
”Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... and very smart?”
”She was and is ... smarter than ever now--mind, I put you on your honour never to mention it--_she's_ got my hair.”
”Do you mean she asked you to sell it?”
”No, my child. I offered it for sale and she was all over me with eagerness to purchase. Hair's the defective wire in her lighting apparatus. Her own, at the best, is skimpy and straight, though very much my colour, and what with permanent waving and instantaneous hair colouring it was positively dwindling away.”
”I wish you had let it dwindle.”
”No, I rather like her--so I suggested she should give her own poor locks a rest and have an artistic _postiche_ made with mine; it made two, one to come and one to go--to the hairdresser. She looks perfectly charming. I'd no idea my hair was so decent till I saw it on her head.”
”I hope _I_ never shall,” Jan said gloomily. ”I think it was silly of you, for it makes you look younger and more irresponsible than ever; and what about posts?”
”I've got a post in view where it won't matter if only I can run things my own way.”
”Will you have to go at once? I thought, perhaps----”
”I wish to take this post at once,” Meg interposed quickly, ”but it depends on you whether I get it.”
”On me?”
”On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you take me on as nurse to Fay's children? A real nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; only you must pay me forty pounds a year. I can't manage with less if I'm to give my poor little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a frightful lot for a nurse?”
”Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you got eighty when you taught the little boys, and I know they'd jump at you again in that school, hair or no hair.”
”Listen, Jan.” Meg put her elbows on the table and leaned her sharp little chin on her two hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. ”For nine long years, except that time with the Trents, I've been teaching, teaching, teaching, and I'm sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a crossing.”
”Yet you teach so well; you know the little boys adored you.”
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