"Of course I am glad that mamma should go," said Kate; "but why can't she take us too? We have not been to the seaside this summer."
"How much quiet and rest would your poor mother get, I wonder, if she took you all with her," said Miss Jameson, smiling.
"It will be horrid without her," said Florrie, impatiently. "With baby and Winnie and papa gone too, the house will seem wretched. We shall be perfectly miserable all the time they are away."
"Poor things!" said Miss Jameson, still smiling, "what a dreadful prospect! Are we all so disagreeable to each other that it will be impossible to find any pleasant way of passing the time together?"
"Oh no; oh no!" cried little Gertie, as she took her usual place at the table beside her governess, and contrived in so doing to get possession of Miss Jameson's hand and give it a kiss. "You will be with us, and you are always so kind. You will tell us stories sometimes of an evening, and let us hear your musical box, won't you?"
"We'll see, if you're good children," said the governess. "Now, Katie and Florrie, take your places."
But the two elder girls did not consider that Miss Jameson's stories or the performance of her musical box could make up for their losing the pleasure of a visit to the seaside. They were inclined to nurse their grievance, and they took their seats at the table with gloomy looks and pouting lips. They tried their governess's patience that morning, which was very unfair, since she was in no way responsible for the arrangement their parents had made.
It was a lovely autumn morning early in October. The schoolroom windows looked into the large garden lying at the back of the house—a roomy old-fashioned house in the neighbourhood of Richmond. Few children have a happier home than the little Bartletts enjoyed. Their father was a well-to-do man of business, able to provide for his family every comfort and advantage that could be reasonably desired. They had a tender mother, who anxiously studied the welfare of her children, though her delicate health made it impossible for her to do as much for them herself as she wished. The children were surrounded by all that is pleasant and stimulating to childhood; though, like many children, they little knew how happy they were, but were ready to grumble and get out of temper directly anything occurred that was not to their liking.
Two days later, Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett left home for Bournemouth, where they proposed staying for a fortnight or three weeks. Their departure caused no small stir in the household. Miss Jameson's help was needed in various directions that morning; and her pupils, freed from her control, rushed hither and thither watching all that went on, and distracting their elders by the innumerable questions they put. Little Winnie was in a high state of delight at the thought of going away with papa and mamma; but baby was not aware the event was matter for self-congratulation, and screamed and struggled tremendously whilst being dressed for the journey. At last everything was done, and the carriage waiting at the door. Mr. Bartlett turned to say good-bye to the sad-faced group of children gathered in the hall.
"I hope they'll be very good whilst we are away, Miss Jameson," he observed; "I shall look to you for a report of their conduct when we return. I daresay you won't keep them closely to their lessons. A little more time in the open air occasionally will do them no harm."