“Give them some tea, Clarissa,” said Miss Venning. “They have had a very cold journey, and then Miss Mattei can take off her things before the school tea.”
“We arrived to the sound of wedding bells. For Ada Morrison, I suppose?” said Flossy.
“Yes; it has made quite an auspicious beginning for you, my dear,” to Violante.
“That is pleasant,” said Violante, shyly.
“Yes; a good beginning is half-way to a good ending. So remember that, my dear, in all your work,” said Miss Venning, sonorously.
“Now come with me,” said Florence, “and I will introduce you to Edith Robertson. She teaches the little ones English and drawing and learns the higher branches.”
Whether Violante had much idea of what fruit might grow in this lofty situation may be doubted, but she followed Flossy to a large room, brightly lit with gas, where, what Violante afterwards described to Rosa as “as many girls as there are singers in a chorus,” were enjoying the leisure of recent arrival after the holidays. There was a cry of “Miss Florence, Miss Florence!” and such a confusion of greetings and embraces ensued as made Violante quite dizzy; but presently Florence extricated from the crowd a short, plain, clever-faced girl of nineteen or twenty, introduced her as Miss Robertson, and told her to show Violante her room and to tell her a few of the ways of the house, while she returned to her sisters.
“Well,” she cried, as she came back into the drawing-room and sat down on the rug for a comfortable chat. “Isn’t she a little dear? She cried, and so did her sister, who looks a famous person; but she soon cheered up.”
“And, pray, do you expect her to be of any use?” asked Clarissa. “She looks about as much like a governess as—”
“A public singer,” said Flossy.