“No, no, George, pray do not ask me to go there!” Hero begged him. “I have made up my mind that I will become a governess, just as Cousin Jane always said I should be. But I do not know how to set about it, and that is why I came to Gil, because he taught me to drive my phaeton, and I thought he might know.”
“Do you know, Gil?” inquired Ferdy, looking at Mr Ringwood with dawning respect.
“No,” replied Mr Ringwood.
“Didn’t think you would,” said Ferdy. “Tell you what: ask my mother! Bound to know!”
“She ain’t going to be a governess,” said Mr Ringwood shortly. “Told you I’d been thinking. Well, I’ve got a notion.”
George, who had been turning the matter over in his mind, said suddenly: “It’s all very well, but she can’t leave Sherry like this! Dash it, it’s impossible!”
“No, it ain’t,” replied Mr Ringwood, his stolidity unshaken. “Best thing she could do. Going to take her to stay with my grandmother.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Ferdy, much struck. “Devilish good notion of yours, Gil! As long as she ain’t dead.”
“Of course she ain’t dead!” said Mr Ringwood, with a touch of impatience. “How could I take Kitten to stay with her if she was?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” confessed Ferdy. “Thought she was dead. Thought you went to the funeral, what’s more.”