“I was very much surprised when I saw her this morning,” he replied, truthful to the letter, if not in the spirit—for his amazement had been great. “I know her. She is the daughter of old Herbert Scott of the British Museum, who has helped me a great deal with my work. So I went to walk with her, and we renewed our acquaintance.”
Every one seemed disappointed, for the chance of chaffing the least chaffable member of the family had seemed unique. But now everything was explained in the dullest possible manner.
“Oh!” ejaculated Anne Trevelyan.
“Fault!” cried the Colonel, who was fond of tennis.
“Punctured!” observed Lady Jane, who motored.
“Crab!” was Jocelyn’s observation, as he looked across the table at Miss Trevelyan, for he was the oarsman of the family.
“Hit to leg for six,” remarked Claude, who was the cricketer.
After this no one thought it strange that Lionel should treat the governess with great friendliness, and as the Follitts were all kind-hearted people, no allusions were made to her undesirable appearance.
On the contrary, it occurred to Lady Jane before long that the poor girl might really make some improvement in her looks without endangering her ladyship’s peace of mind. Miss Scott was turning out to be so thoroughly satisfactory, and “knew her place so well,” that Lady Jane’s heart was softened. “I am sure you won’t mind my speaking of a rather delicate matter,” she said one morning, when she chanced to be alone with Miss Scott for a few moments. “I should certainly not mention it if I did not hope that you will stay till the girls are grown up.”
“I will stay as long as I can,” answered Miss Scott demurely. “You are all very kind to me, and I am very happy here.”