‘Whom have you here for mistress?’ asked Lucilla.
‘Please, ma’am, governess is runned away.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the girl, developing powers of volubility such as scholastic relations with her had left unsuspected. ‘She ran away last Saturday was a week, and there was nobody to open the school when we came to it a Sunday morning; and we had holidays all last week, ma’am; and mother was terrified [225] out of her life; and father, he said he wouldn’t have me never go for to do no such thing, and that he didn’t want no fine ladies, as was always spiting of me.’
‘Every one will seem to spite you, if you keep no better hours,’ said Lucy, little edified by Martha’s virtuous indignation.
The girl had scarcely entered the school before the clergyman stood on the threshold, and was seized by both hands, with the words, ‘Oh, Mr. Prendergast, what is this?’
‘You here, Cilla? What’s the matter? What has brought you back?’
‘Had you not heard? A sprain of Ratia’s, and other things. Never mind. What’s all this?’
‘Ah! I knew you would be sadly grieved!’
‘So you did frighten her away!’