“A dose of lords and ladies,” said Agatha.
“I thought they were rather nice,” said Paula.
“I see how it will be,” said Agatha. “They will patronise the M.A. as Lady Somebody’s old governess, and she will fawn upon them and run after them, and we shall be on those terms.”
“But I thought you meant to be a governess?”
“I shall make my own line. I know how swells look on a governess of the ancien régime, and how they will introduce her as the kindly old goody who mends my little lady’s frock!”
“The girl had not any airs,” said Paula. “She told me about the churches down there in the town—not the ones we went to on Sunday; but there’s one that is very low indeed, and St. Andrew’s, which is their parish church, was suiting the moderate high church folk; and there is St. Kenelm’s, very high indeed, Mr. Flight’s, I think I have heard of him, and it is just the right thing, I am sure.”
“Don’t flatter yourself that the M.A. will let you have much pleasure in it. It is just what people of her sort think dangerous.”
“But do you know, Nag, I do believe that it is the church that Hubert Delrio was sent down to study and make a design for.”
“Whew! There will be a pretty kettle of fish if he comes down about it! That is, if he and Flapsy have not forgotten all about the ice and the forfeits at Warner’s Grange, as is devoutly to be hoped.”
“Do you hope it really, Nag, for Flapsy really was very much—did care very much.”