Dear Canon Carnaby,
It is with the greatest reluctance that I write to tell you that the governess whom you recommended so highly has not been a success. In fact, she has proved so altogether unsatisfactory that I am having to dispense with her services at a moment’s notice. You will be grieved to learn that I am unable to give her a reference. In my humble opinion she is wholly unsuited to the care of young children. Her temper, to put the case mildly, is under imperfect control and much as it distresses me to have to say so, she does not invariably speak the truth; also her manners leave much to be desired. On several occasions she has been openly and intentionally disrespectful. I am sorry to have to write in this way of one who has been able to recommend herself to your kindness, but it seems right that you should know the sort of person she really is.
With kind regards, believe me, very sincerely yours,
M. Eleanor Trenchard-Simpson.
She read the letter over with a glow of quiet satisfaction and then gave it to Miss Parbury for perusal and criticism. Miss Parbury’s criticism was that she didn’t think it was strong enough.
Taking it altogether, Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson was inclined to think the letter didn’t lack force.
“I don’t know about that.” Miss Parbury fixed one arctic eye upon the mobile countenance of General Norris. “Considering that she has just pretty nearly killed poor Joan.”
“Killed poor Who?” The development of the issue was growing too much for the feelings of an impressionable soldier.
“Didn’t you hear the uproar in the school room, George?” A shade of maternal reproach softened Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson’s note of indignation.
George confessed that he had not.