“I thought I was,” said Phyllis; “I felt that somehow yesterday. But where are the others?”
“Oh! the others,” said Ralph. “I thought you wanted me alone.”
“It is ever so good of you to come, but I should like you all best,” answered the little girl. “But there, you have come, and I will tell you everything. Let us walk round by the back of the stables. If she sees us I am lost.”
“She in other words is the dragon,” said Ralph.
“Yes—Miss Fleet; and I quite, quite hate her now.”
“Tell me all about it,” said Ralph, and he tucked Phyllis’s hand through his arm, and they sauntered slowly in the direction of the field which led to the back of the stables.
Meanwhile Miss Fleet, in dismay and indignation, drove straight to the Rectory. Mrs Hilchester happened to be at home. She was in a room which was very plainly furnished. At a large centre table the Rector’s wife had spread bales of red flannel and coarse grey serge and unbleached calico, and was busy cutting out garments which were to be made up immediately for the poor of the parish. When she heard Miss Fleet’s step, she did not trouble even to look round.
“Is that you, my dear?” she said.
“And have you come to help me? But you are very late.”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘my dear,’” answered the indignant governess, “but I have certainly never had the pleasure of speaking to you before, and I may as well emphatically say I have not come to help you.”