Hilary smiled and shook her damp shawl. "I shall take no harm. I am used to go out in all weathers."
"Are you a governess?" The question was so direct and kindly, that it hardly seemed an impertinence.
"Yes; but I have no pupils, and I fear I shall never get any."
"Why not?"
"I suppose, because I know nobody here. It seems so very hard to get teaching in London. But I beg your pardon."
"I beg yours," said Miss Balquidder—not without a certain dignity—"for asking questions of a stranger. But I was once a stranger here myself, and had a 'sair fecht,' as we say in Scotland, before I could earn even my daily bread. Though I wasn't a governess, still I know pretty well what the sort of life is, and if I had daughters who must work for their bread, the one thing I would urge upon them should be—'Never become a governess.' "
"Indeed. For what reason?"
"I'll not tell you now, my dear, standing with all your wet clothes on; but as I said, if you will do me the favor to call."
"Thank you!" said Hilary, not sufficiently initiated in London caution to dread making a new acquaintance. Besides, she liked the rough hewn, good natured face; and the Scotch accent was sweet to her ear.
Yet when she reached home she was half shy of telling her sisters the engagement she had made. Selina was extremely shocked, and considered it quite necessary that the London Directory, the nearest clergyman, or, perhaps, Mr. Ascott, who living in the parish, must know—should be consulted as to Miss Balquidder's respectability.