"And the nurse; is she not a sort of protegée of yours? Perhaps if you would kindly give her some idea of her duties it might help her."
This Mr. Andrews said maliciously, for he had a man's contempt for caprice, and he could see nothing but caprice in Miss Rothermel's washing her hands of his affairs. Two days ago she had advised him, urged him, made up his cabinet for him. And now she only tolerated an allusion to the subject. It was not his fault that the servants she had made him send away had been saucy to her. He was not inclined to submit to such airs (now that he had got his questions answered and there was a reasonable prospect of hot water and clean towels).
"She is not a protegée of mine at all," returned Missy. "All I know about her, however, is in her favor. She will, I think, take good care of the children. She will take her instructions best from you, and she has intelligence enough to fill up details of which you are ignorant necessarily."
Mr. Andrews bowed, and Missy filled up the gap in the conversation by snipping off some more dead leaves. There seemed really nothing for him to do but to go away, and he was just preparing to do this when the children rushed upon the scene. Jay pounced upon Missy, and nearly threw her down; she looked slight and small, stretching up her arm to a high branch of the vine, and the little ruffian probably felt his superiority and used it.
"You are a naughty boy," she said, picking up her hat and the scissors which he had thrown to the ground, but she did not say it very severely.
"Why did you go away without me?" he said, kicking at her glove, which lay upon the gravel walk.
"Because I didn't want you," she returned.
Gabrielle had crept up to her father, and was eying Missy and Jay with sidelong observation. "Jay said something very bad this morning," she said, including her father in her circuitous glance. Her father naturally felt suspicious of Gabrielle's information; it was generally of a nature far from pleasing. He therefore passed over her remark without notice, and putting out his hand to Jay, said, "Well, you haven't spoken to me this morning. I think you have forgotten that you haven't seen me."
"Holloa! how are you?" cried Jay, catching at his father's hand with both his, and trying to climb up his leg. His hat fell off in the exertion, and his yellow hair, fresh from Goneril's brushing, blew about in the breeze.
"He said he didn't want to go home to you, papa," persisted Gabrielle.