Part 21 (1/2)

”Yes?” said Katharine, smiling. ”Do you want anything?”

”Oh, no,” said Phyllis, and crept away again. Katharine sat and pondered a little while longer. Presently, she s.h.i.+vered and made the discovery that she was cold, and she jumped up and stretched herself.

”I suppose I must unpack,” she said, still smiling contentedly. ”Where has Phyllis gone, I wonder?”

She went to the door and made the pa.s.sage ring with her voice, until Phyllis hurried out of a neighbouring room and apologised for not being there when she was wanted.

”I believe you were there when I didn't want you,” said Katharine candidly. ”Wasn't I cross to you or something?” Her foot touched one of the discarded Chinese lanterns.

”Hullo! I thought there were some lanterns somewhere. Where are they gone?”

”Oh, no!” said Phyllis, going down on her knees before the box. ”You must have been dreaming.”

”I wasn't dreaming, and you're a foolish old dear, and I am a selfish pig,” cried Katharine penitently.

”Oh, no!” said Phyllis again. ”I was the pig, you see, because I forgot your letter. You'll rumple my hair, if you do that again.”

Katharine did hug her again, nevertheless, and accused herself of all the offences she could remember, whether they related to the present occasion or not; and Phyllis silenced her in a gruff voice, and the unpacking proceeded by degrees.

”Don't you think,” said Katharine irrelevantly, ”that women are much more selfish than men, in some ways?”

”What ways?”

”I mean when they are absorbed in anything. Now, a man wouldn't behave like a cad to his best friend, just because he happened to be in love with a girl, would he? But a woman would. She would betray her nearest and dearest for the sake of a man. I am certain I should. Women are so wolfish, directly they feel things; and they seem to lose their sense of honour when they fall in love. Don't they?”

”Where do the stockings go?” was all Phyllis said.

”Perhaps,” continued Katharine, ”it is because a woman really has stronger feelings than a man.”

”I shouldn't wonder,” said Phyllis. ”Who packed the sponge bag next to your best hat?”

”I don't think it matters,” said Katharine mildly. ”I was saying-- What are you laughing at?”

”Nothing. Only, it is so delightful to have you back again, moralising away while I do all the work,” laughed Phyllis.

Katharine owned humbly that Phyllis always did all the work, and Phyllis bluntly repudiated the charge, and insisted that Katharine was the most unselfish person in the world, and Katharine ended in allowing herself to be persuaded that she was; and the rest of the evening pa.s.sed in an amicable exchange of news. Even the ”cat in the pie dish” seemed appetising that evening.

Her feeling of satisfaction was increased when she arrived at school the next morning and found that Mrs. Downing was anxious to speak to her. An interview with the lady princ.i.p.al at the beginning of term generally foreboded some good.

”I want you to give up the junior teaching this term, my dear Miss Austen,” she began, after greeting her warmly. ”You are really too good for it, far too good. Mr. Wilton was quite right when he told me how cultured you were, quite right. At the time, I must confess to feeling very doubtful; you seemed so inexperienced,--so very young, in fact. But I have come to think that in your case it is no drawback to be young; indeed, the dear children seem to prefer it. Their attachment for you is extraordinary; pardon me, I should have said phenomenal. And the way you manage them is perfect, quite perfect,--just the touch of firmness to show that your kindness is not weakness. Admirable! I am most grateful to Mr. Wilton for introducing you to me, most grateful. Such a charming man, is he not? So distinguished!”

She paused for breath, and Katharine murmured an acknowledgment of Mr.

Wilton's distinction.

”To come to the point, my dear Miss Austen, I should be charmed, quite charmed, if you would take the senior work this term,--English in all its branches, French translation, Latin, and drawing. I think you know the curriculum, do you not? Thank you very much; that is so good of you! Did you have a pleasant holiday? There is no need to ask how you are,--the very picture of health, I am sure! And the architecture lectures, too; I should be more than grateful if you would continue them as before. Thank you so much-- Ah, I beg your pardon?”

Katharine here made a desperate inroad into the torrent of words, and mentioned that she knew no Latin and had never taught any drawing.

”Indeed? But you are too modest, my dear Miss Austen; it is your one failing, if I may say so. Of course, if you wish--then let it be so.