“Really, Lady Jane!” cried Miss Scott in a tone of deprecation, and she could not help blushing in the most charming way possible.
“It’s quite true.” Lady Jane sat down and looked disconsolately at her neat gaiters. “It’s all my fault for giving you my lotion and making you dress better,” she added, evidently in extreme dejection.
Ellen bit her lip. “I can’t help being grateful to you for it,” she said.
“The worst of it is that I’ve grown to like you,” responded Lady Jane in evident despair. “If it was only because you’re such a good governess, and have such wonderful influence over the girls, it wouldn’t matter much, would it?”
Ellen smiled, in spite of herself, but could find nothing to say.
“You see,” Lady Jane continued, “I have never had a governess I liked, till now. If you knew what I’ve been through with them! There was that Miss Kirk, with her violet eyes—oh, that Miss Kirk! I wonder I did not beat her! One of the most delightful moments of my life was when I told her to go. But you! You’re the ideal! What possessed me, to give you my lotion! I might have known it would cure you.”
She was really distressed, but Miss Scott did not know what to say.
“I saw it coming,” Lady Jane went on, presently. “I’ve seen this coming for days and days! Why in the world must all my men be such utter butterflies—the whole hive of them! I mean—of course, butterflies don’t live in hives, do they?—oh, you know what I mean! But when I saw how well you behaved—with such dignity, so unlike that Miss Kirk—well, I thought you would give them all a lesson, and that there would be peace. But I suppose that was impossible.”
“But it’s not that, I assure you,” objected Ellen.
“Nonsense! It’s very nice of you to say so, of course, and you may be sure that I shall not ask you to go into details. That wouldn’t be quite nice of me, would it? But you can’t go! You simply can’t, for I won’t let you; and I’m sure I don’t know what is to be done if you stay.”