All in a moment, as it seemed to me, after a few springs and autumns and attacks of rheumatism, Gertrude’s two children were leaving the nursery, and Joan was returning home from school to be introduced into society. Gertrude began to look round for a governess who would also be a companion for Joan. I helped her to find one. It was a case of nepotism. I recommended my own niece, Dulcibella, who had just returned from the completion of her education at Dresden. Dulcibella’s impecunious parents had, of course, both died and left her to battle with life—and me, alone, her only heritage being a wild rose prettiness and dark eyes like an Alderney calf’s.
She was well educated. I had been able to achieve that owing to the cheap rate at which I lived, thanks to Jimmy. But I had thoroughly made up my mind that I was not going to have her twirling her thumbs under my roof. She was close on eighteen, and must now earn her own living.
She was staying with me on a visit when Gertrude told me of her requirements. Gertrude’s two stout children were at that moment sitting on the lawn blowing soap bubbles with Dulcibella. Jimmy had been engaged in the same pursuit as his offspring five minutes earlier, but had departed. Gertrude looked at the group critically.
“Your niece does not look strong,” she said dubiously.
“She isn’t.”
“Or energetic.”
“She’s not.”
“Is she really firm with children?”
“I should not think so, but you are a better judge of character than I am.”