“I am sure Miss Parbury will consider it a pleasure.” A shade below the belt, no doubt, but then there are no Queensbury Rules for the ladies, God bless them!
Beneath the entranced gaze of Master Peter and Miss Joan the hated Miss Cass made a slow and dignified exit. They were quite surprised that she didn’t even slam the door. But if looks are a guide she must have been really sorry for herself that she was so awfully much of a lady.
“Jo-an darling, run and ask dear Dolores to look out the London trains. Or stay, I’ll go and ask her myself. And then I’ll write to Canon Carnaby.”
XXXVI
The news traveled quickly. Dear Dolores received it almost at once; and received it, moreover, with a modesty that did credit to her self-respect; but as she turned her prompt attention to Bradshaw’s Guide she could hardly refrain from humming “Any Time’s Kissing Time” and kindred melodies from Chu Chin Chow. After all, it is neither just nor wise to exact too much of human nature.
The second person to be informed was General Norris. That gentleman, who had just returned from his morning constitutional, was in the act of crossing the hall when he suddenly found himself involved in a riot.
Master Peter and Miss Joan burst out of the schoolroom dancing a sort of fandango.
“She’s got the sack, she’s got the sack!”—Miss Joan.
“Hooray, Hooray, Hooray!”—Master Peter.
Explanations were immediately demanded. Explanations were at once forthcoming.