"We don't think so," Rupert's contemptuous tones grew gentle again; "we know the difference between the womanly woman and the others. Thank God, there are plenty of the right sort left," and Rupert stooped suddenly and took his cousin's two small hands into his.
"You aren't going?" she exclaimed. "I wanted you to see Baba, and there are thousands of things I meant to say to you."
"So sorry, but the thousands of things must be postponed. I have an appointment at five, and I must keep it."
"You will advertise for the 'young person'?"
"Yes; I won't forget the 'young person'—and—by the way, Cicely," a slight trace of embarrassment showed on his face, "didn't you tell me you wanted to find a sort of nursery governess for Baba?"
"Certainly, I do; but, my dear boy, what do you know about nursery governesses?"
"I don't know anything about them," was the reply, but Cicely's quick eyes still noted embarrassment in both voice and manner, "but I heard the other day of a girl who—who might be wanting a post."
"A girl who might be wanting a post," Cicely exclaimed mockingly; "the person I engage for Baba, would have to be somebody much less vague than that, and she must have unimpeachable references."
"Unimpeachable references," Mernside reflected as he left his cousin's house; and, side by side with Cicely's words, other words tossed to and fro in his brain, words written in a clear, girlish hand that had an odd character of its own.
"I cannot find work, and I need a home very much."