“Please promise me one thing, Sir John,” said Mrs. Haddo. “Do not say anything to Fanny about the Vivians. Allow me to tell her when I have decided that they are to come to the school. If I decide against it, she need never know. Now, shall I ring and ask one of the servants to send her to you? Believe me, Sir John, I will do my very utmost to oblige you in this matter; but I must be guided by principle. You know what this school means to me. You know how earnestly I have at heart the welfare of all my children, as I call the girls who live at Haddo Court.”
“Yes, yes, I know; but I think, somehow, that you will agree to my request.”
“Send Miss Crawford here,” said Mrs. Haddo to a servant who appeared at that moment, and a minute later Fanny entered the room. She gave a cry of delight when she saw her father, and Mrs. Haddo at once left them alone together.
The day was a half-holiday, and the head mistress was glad of the fact, for she wanted to have a little time to think over Sir John’s request. Haddo Court had hitherto answered so admirably because no girl, even if her name had been on the books for years, was admitted to the school without the head mistress having a personal interview, first with her parents or guardians, and afterwards with the girl herself. Many an apparently charming girl was quietly but courteously informed that she was not eligible for the vacancy which was to be filled, and Mrs. Haddo was invariably right in her judgment. With her shrewd observation of character, she saw something lacking in that pretty, or careless, or even thoughtful, or sorrowful face—something which might aspire, but could never by any possibility attain, to what the head mistress desired to inculcate in the young lives around her—and now Mrs. Haddo was asked to receive three girls under peculiar circumstances. They were orphans and needed a home. Sir John Crawford was one of her oldest friends. The Crawfords had always been associated with Haddo Court, and beautiful Beatrice Vivian had received her education there. Surely there could not be anything wrong in admitting three young girls like the Vivians to the school? But yet there was her invariable rule. Could she possibly see them? One short interview would decide her. She looked round the beautiful home in which had grown up the fairest specimens of English girlhood, and wondered if, for once, she might break her rule.
Sir John Crawford had gone to the Ritz Hotel. There he was to await Mrs. Haddo’s telegram. But she would not telegraph; she would go to London herself. She took the first train from the nearest station, and arrived unexpectedly at the “Ritz” just as Sir John was sitting down to dinner.
“I see by your face, my dear, good friend, that you are bringing me the best of news!” said the eager man, flushing with pleasure as Mrs. Haddo took a seat by his side. “You will join me at dinner, of course?”
“No, thank you, Sir John. I shall have supper at the Court on my return. I will tell you at once what I have come about. I have, as you must know well, never admitted a girl into my school without first seeing her and judging for myself what her character was likely to be. I should greatly like to help you in the present case, which is, I will admit, a pressing one; and girls of the name of Vivian, and also related to you, have claims undoubtedly on Haddo Court. Nevertheless, I am loath to break my rule. Is it possible for me to see the girls?”
“I fear it is not,” said Sir John. “I did not tell you that poor Frances died in the north of Scotland, and I could not possibly get the girls up to London in time for you to interview them and then decide against them. It must be ‘Yes’ or ‘No’—an immediate ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ Mrs. Haddo; for if you say ‘No’ and I pray God you won’t—I must see what is the next best thing I can do for them. Poor children! they are very lonely and unhappy; but, of course, there are other schools. Perhaps you could recommend one, if you are determined to refuse them without an interview?”
Mrs. Haddo could never tell afterwards why a sudden fit of weakness and compassion overcame her. Perhaps it was the thought of the other schools; for she was a difficult woman to please, and fastidious and perhaps even a little scornful with regard to some of the teaching of the present day. Perhaps it was the sight of Sir John’s troubled face. Perhaps it was the fact that there never was a nicer girl in the school than Beatrice Vivian—Beatrice, who was long in her grave, but who had been loved by every one in the house; Beatrice, whom Mrs. Haddo herself remembered. It was the thought of Beatrice that finally decided the good lady.
“It is against my rule,” she said, “and I hope I am not doing wrong. I will take the children; but I make one condition, Sir John, that if I find they do not fulfill the high expectations which are looked for in every girl who comes to Haddo Court, I do my best to place them elsewhere.”