"And the other dear girls, so improved," she went on. "Thyrza and Elfie especially. Your doing, dearest Constance!"
I ought to be gratified, but I can hardly say that I am. Everything is a burden just now. I only feel thankful that the long evening has come to an end.
Friday. October 16.—Plans are unchanged. We go south next Tuesday, starting early, and arriving before night. Nellie had a letter from Gladys to-day, in which she writes with delight of her friend's return, and mentions in passing that Arthur Lenox will be at The Park,—"till Wednesday evening." Nothing more.
Nellie read aloud a few sentences from the letter; and when Captain Lenox' name was mentioned, Miss Millington's eyes came straight to my face. I did not look up, but I was keenly conscious of her fixed stare. I felt myself turning slowly cold and pale; and I knew that she must see it. No remarks were made at the time; only somewhat later, Mrs. Romilly said affectionately, "Constance, my dear, I don't like to see you so worn-out. I shall have to send you soon to your sister for a holiday." But I made nothing of it.
Then all at once she spoke to me about Miss Millington, expressing a grave sense of doubt, and begging to hear confidentially my honest opinion. Was Miss Millington, or was she not, a desirable companion for the girls, and a fit person to train the children?
I do not know how much or how little my friend has heard. Nellie, being everybody's confidante, is generally well acquainted with everything, and doubtless she has used her own discretion in passing on facts to her Mother.
I declined to give any advice in the matter. This was the only line open to me; and I said so. I had not succeeded in winning the affection of Miss Millington: and I did not think I ought to count myself a fair judge.
Mrs. Romilly looked at me in questioning silence. Then she said, "That is enough. You would never fail to say what you conscientiously could in favour of anybody."
This may be true: I hope it is. But I would rather have no hand or voice—even tacitly—in the dismissal of Miss Millington: and I cannot but expect that to be the consummation.
Saturday. October 17.—About an hour after lunch to-day, I was in the back-garden, half-reading, half-dreaming. The girls had all started together for a long ramble, from Nellie down to Pet.