Presently she came, and proved younger than her servant, though still not in reality young. She was unlike Bradwell in every way. Even her eyes did not resemble his, being black and small--you might say beady--and her mouth had thin lips, which revealed lustrous teeth, which might have been false ones, though, on the other hand, they might not.
"Curiously enough," she said, "I was just writing a letter to Dr. Dunston when you arrived. Now I can send a message by you instead. Are you his son?"
"No, Miss Mason," I answered. "I am Travers, the head boy at Merivale School."
"How interesting!" she said. "And what are you going to do in the world, Travers?"
"I leave next term--this is my last term, in fact--and I am then going to try for Woolwich," I said.
"That means the Army, of course," she answered. "I hope you will pass well."
I then thanked her for this kind wish, and said I hoped so, too.
"Owing to the War," I explained, "there is no very great difficulty in passing into Woolwich at present, and I hope to get on quickly, and take my place in the fighting-line before the War is over."
She approved of this.
"Quite right," she said. "I never wanted to be a man before the War, but I do now."