“Oh—this is Miss Earle, Mother,” Beryl McNab said. “She and Dicky came down together.”
There was evident surprise in my employer’s face as she looked me over. She gave me a limp hand.
“Then you and Mr. Atherton have met before?” she asked.
Dicky Atherton rushed into his explanation, which sounded, I must admit, fairly unconvincing. I was conscious of a distinct drop in the temperature: certainly Mrs. McNab’s voice had frozen perceptibly when she spoke again.
“How curious!” she said: I had not imagined that two words could make one feel so small and young. “You have met my daughter, of course: this is my eldest son, and Judith and Jack are your especial charges.”
The college youth favoured me with a long stare, and the boy and girl with a short one. Then Judith smiled with exceeding sweetness and put out her hand.
“I wish you luck!” she said solemnly.
There was a general ripple of laughter.
“Miss Earle will need all the luck she can get if she’s to manage you two imps,” said Harry McNab, shaking hands. “You might as well realize, Miss Earle, that it can’t be done: at least no one has succeeded yet in making them decent members of society.”
Mrs. McNab interposed.