“Well, she do dress fine for a governess,” said Nancy to herself. “It’s likely she’ll put on airs.”
The fact was that Florence was dressed according to her past social position—in a costly street attire—but it had never occurred to her that she was too well dressed for a governess.
She took her seat in the drawing-room, and five minutes later there was a rustling heard, and Mrs. Leighton walked into the room.
“Are you the applicant for the position of governess?” she asked, surveying the elegantly attired young lady seated on the sofa.
“Yes, Mrs. Leighton,” answered Florence, easily, for she felt more at home in a house like this than in the tenement.
“Have you taught before?”
“Very little,” answered Florence, smiling to herself, as she wondered what Mrs. Leighton would say if she could see Dodger, the only pupil she ever had. “However, I like teaching, and I like children.”
“Pardon me, but you don’t look like a governess, Miss——”
“Linden,” suggested Florence, filling out the sentence. “Do governesses have a peculiar look?”
“I mean as to dress. You are more expensively dressed than the average governess can afford.”