‘Then you can teach,’ said Mr. Scratchell, decisively. ‘If you’ve learnt you know all the technical words and rules, and you’re quite competent to teach. When your pupil goes wrong you can tell her how to go right. That’s quite enough. Nobody expects you to be a Michael Angelo.’
‘I’m afraid I shall look like an impostor if I attempt to teach drawing,’ remonstrated Bella.
‘Would not object to a school,’ wrote Mr. Scratchell, adding to the advertisement.
‘But I would very, very, very much object, papa,’ cried Bella. ‘I will not go into a school to please anybody.’
‘My dear, you have got to earn your bread, and if you can’t earn it in a private family you must earn it in a school,’ explained her father. ‘I want the advertisement to be comprehensive, and to bring as many answers as possible. You are not obliged to take a situation in a school simply because you get one offered you—but if your only offer is of that kind you must accept it. Hobson’s choice, you know.’
Bella began to cry.
‘The little Pipers are very hateful,’ she sobbed, ‘but I dare say strange children would be worse.’
‘If the little Pipers were your step-children you could do what you liked with them,’ said Mr. Scratchell.
‘Oh, father,’ remonstrated his wife, ‘she would be bound to be kind to them.’
‘Of course,’ replied Mr. Scratchell. ‘Within certain limits. It would be kindness to get them under strict discipline. She could pack them off to school, and needn’t have them home for the holidays unless she liked. Come, I think the advertisement will do. It will cost three or four shillings, so it ought to answer. Herbert can take it with him to-morrow when he goes to his office.’