“Miss Pettigrew is an old friend of mine and——”
“Is she the schoolmistress?”
“The principal,” said my mother, “and she’s quite capable of dealing with Lalage.”
“I wasn’t thinking of her. As I told the Canon this afternoon, Lalage will probably be very good for her.”
“She’ll certainly be very good for Lalage.”
“I’m not saying anything the least derogatory to Miss Pettigrew. Schoolmasters are just the same. So are the heads of colleges. The position tends to develop certain quite trifling defects of character for which Lalage will be an almost certain cure.”
“You don’t know Miss Pettigrew.”
“No, I don’t. That’s the reason I’m trying not to talk of her. What I’m considering and what you ought to be considering is the effect of Lalage on the other girls. Think of those nice, innocent young creatures, fresh from their sheltered homes——”
“My dear boy,” said my mother, “what on earth do you know about little girls?”
“Nothing,” I said, “but I’ve always been led to believe that they are sweet and innocent.”