And to do them justice, our friends were active—especially Miss Pinfold—an old maid who lived at the other end of the village; Mrs. Clarke, our rector’s wife, was also zealous on my behalf. Miss Pinfold wrote many letters, also scores of postcards, and almost every acquaintance had been victimised and pestered, irrespective of age or sex. More than once she said to Aunt Sophy:
“If Letty could only go to India! I’ll lay my life a girl with her remarkable looks will marry some wonderful catch.”
But Aunt Sophy was not in favour of this dazzling idea and looked coldly on the scheme. India was too far away, and was said to be the happy hunting-ground of fast women—as well as abounding with snakes!
For my own part, I had always (privately) cherished a burning desire to see the East, and though I did not believe in the wonderful, or any, “catch,” I was profoundly interested in Miss Pinfold’s tales of the days of her grandfather, who had been a famous Indian warrior, and had fought the Sikhs, and also in the more modern activities of her two married nieces.
In the end, it was Mrs. Clarke who brought us the great news! She arrived one evening at tea-time, eager and important, letter in hand, and breathlessly announced that she had found “the very thing for Letty at last!” Her husband’s cousin, who received Indian children, and had “an Indian connection,” knew of a lady, the wife of an official in good position, who required a governess to take charge of two dear little girls, aged seven and eight; they were in the hills almost all the year in a perfect climate; the salary offered was forty pounds and a second-class passage out, and, if suitable, an engagement for two years. The governess must be a gentlewoman, young, healthy, energetic, and Church of England. She would be required to teach French, English, and music, and expected to arrive not later than the end of February. It was now November.
“It seems made for Letty!” said Mrs. Clarke—her voice quivering with triumph as she handed the epistle to my aunt; “you should write at once!”
But Aunt Sophy and Linda were politely dubious.
“Dear Mrs. Clarke, who is this Mrs. Hooper?” enquired my sister. “Letty could not write and engage herself to a lady we know nothing about; of course, there must be mutual references; and forty pounds for India is so little!”
“Well, she gets her board and washing free,” put in Miss Pinfold, who happened to be present, “and has the forty pounds in her pocket, and, as I’ve said before, Letty will never come home Letty Harlowe—she’ll make a great match!” and she rubbed her knees with an air of complacent finality.
“Not likely,” objected Linda; “and Letty is not going to India on the chance of finding a husband. Arthur says those days were over sixty years ago. Of course, I know Letty has always devoured books on India, and longs to see it; but she is not to jump at Mrs. Hooper’s offer—though it is so good of Mrs. Clarke to bring it and, I know she,” looking at her, “would be the first to advise caution.”