The lady principal’s eyes followed hers, and looked at the muff too. It was a very handsome sable muff, which had cost five-and-twenty pounds, and had been given by Mr. Monckton to his wife at the beginning of the winter. It was not at all in accord with Eleanor’s plain merino dress and woollen shawl, or with her desire to go out as a governess without consideration of salary. Miss Barkham, the lady principal, began to look rather suspiciously at her visitor’s handsome face, and forgot to finish the sentence she had commenced.
“You can command excellent references, Miss Villars, I suppose?” she said, coldly.
Eleanor flushed crimson. Here was an insurmountable difficulty at the very outset.
“References,” she stammered, “will references be necessary?”
“Most decidedly. We could not think of sending out any young lady from this establishment who could not command first-class references or testimonials. Some people are satisfied with written testimonials; for myself, I consider a personal reference indispensable, and I would not upon my own authority engage any lady without one.”
Eleanor looked very much distressed. She had no idea of diplomatizing or prevaricating. She blurted out the truth all at once, unappalled by the stern glances of Miss Barkham.
“I can’t possibly give you a reference,” she said; “my friends do not know that I am in search of a situation, and they must not know it. I assure you that I belong to a very respectable family, and am quite competent to do what I profess to do.”
CHAPTER LI.
MRS. MAJOR LENNARD.
Miss Barkham stared at her visitor with a look of mingled horror and astonishment.
“You do not surely imagine, Miss Villars,” she said, “that anybody will engage you in the responsible position of governess to their children upon no better recommendation than your own, I must confess, rather confident assertion of your merits?”