“You might try the college agencies. Their graduates sometimes try governessing.”
She gave him some addresses.
“Thanks. I think we’ll try them. My daughter, here, is rather exacting.”
The manager peered over her desk at the child, hostilely.
“I don’t like you, either,” said Isabelle, promptly.
Wally hurried her out. He was about worn out with this unaccustomed and exhausting strain. It had been years since Wally spent a whole day boring himself. His rage at Max grew, and he vented it on Isabelle.
“For God’s sake, don’t sass the managers! We may have to go back there.”
“Does God care?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘for God’s sake.’”