“All right.”
Rose made no attempt at all at displaying an amiability which she was far from feeling.
“As we’re on the subject,” said the little governess nervously, “I thought I’d really better speak to you. Cecil is a dear little boy and I’m very fond of him, but I really don’t know what to do about his want of truth. I’m sorry to have to say it, Mrs. Aviolet, but he’s untruthful—downright untruthful.”
“Have you just found it out or did his grandmother tell you so?” Rose asked truculently.
“Lady Aviolet never mentioned such a thing to me, nor did any one else. I am in the habit of forming my own opinions as to the character of my pupils. I am a student of child-psychology,” said Miss Wade with dignity. “It is a most serious fault, and one that cannot be corrected too young.”
“If you’re thinking of his nonsense just now, Miss Wade——”
The governess interrupted her firmly. “No, that has nothing to do with it. I have been meaning to speak to you for some little while. I should have thought little or nothing of his wild inventions of imaginary adventures, if I had not, more than once, found him out in a direct untruth.”
Rose groaned almost involuntarily.
“You knew of this fault already?”
“Yes, of course I did.”