“Oh yes!” said Miss Chetwynd. “Several times. Sophia is a very secretive girl, very—but I think I may say I have always had her confidence. There have been times when Sophia and I have been very near each other. Elizabeth was much struck with her. Indeed, I may tell you that in one of her last letters to me she spoke of Sophia and said she had mentioned her to Mr. Jones, and Mr. Jones remembered her quite well.”
Impossible for even a wise, uncommon parent not to be affected by such an announcement!
“I dare say your sister will give up her school now,” observed Mrs. Baines, to divert attention from her self-consciousness.
“Oh NO!” And this time Mrs. Baines had genuinely shocked Miss Chetwynd. “Nothing would induce Elizabeth to give up the cause of education. Archibald takes the keenest interest in the school. Oh no! Not for worlds!”
“THEN YOU THINK SOPHIA WOULD MAKE A GOOD TEACHER?” asked Mrs. Baines with apparent inconsequence, and with a smile. But the words marked an epoch in her mind. All was over.
“I think she is very much set on it and—”
“That wouldn’t affect her father—or me,” said Mrs. Baines quickly.
“Certainly not! I merely say that she is very much set on it. Yes, she would, at any rate, make a teacher far superior to the average.” (“That girl has got the better of her mother without me!” she reflected.) “Ah! Here is dear Constance!”
Constance, tempted beyond her strength by the sounds of the visit and the colloquy, had slipped into the room.
“I’ve left both doors open, mother,” she excused herself for quitting her father, and kissed Miss Chetwynd.