“No,” Cecil said shortly. “And the regiment is going into camp, so he will be out of town. I’m not bothering my head about holidays—quite enough to do with this wretched Matric. The Head is keen to make a good show this year, for the Dulwich School beat us last year, and, as usual, all the responsibility and all the blame is put on the poor mistresses. You can’t make girls work if they don’t want, you can’t cram their brains when they’ve no brains to cram; but those wretched examiners send a record of all the marks, so you can see exactly where they fall short. Woe betide the mistress who is responsible for that branch! I wouldn’t mind prophesying that if the German doesn’t come out better than last year, Fräulein will be packed off. I wouldn’t be too sure of myself. I’ve done all right so far, but the Head is not as devoted to me as she might be. I don’t think she’d be sorry to have an excuse for getting rid of me. That’s one of the delightful aspects of our position—we are absolutely at the mercy of a woman who, from sheer force of circumstances, becomes more of an autocrat every year. The Committee listen to her, and accept every word she says; the staff know better than to dispute a single order. We’d stand on our head in rows if she made it a rule! The pupils scuttle like rabbits when they see her coming, and cheer themselves hoarse every time she speaks. No human woman can live in that atmosphere for years and keep a cool head!”
“She’s rather a dear, though, all the same!” Claire said loyally. She had been hurt by the lack of personal interest which Miss Farnborough showed in the different members of her staff, but she was unwilling to brand her as a heartless tyrant. “Anyway,” she added hastily, “you are not satisfied here. If you were going on teaching I should have thought you’d be glad of a change. It would be easy to get another school.”
Mary Rhodes looked at her; a long eloquent glance.
“With a good testimonial—yes! Without a good testimonial—no! A testimonial for twelve years’ work depends on one woman, remember—on her prejudice or good nature, on the mood in which she happens to be on one particular day. It might read quite differently because she happened to have a chill on her liver.”
“My dear! there is a sense of justice! There is such a thing as honesty.”
“My dear, I agree. Even so, would you dare to say that the wording of a testimonial would be unaffected by the writer’s mood?”
“Surely twelve years in one school—”
“No, it wouldn’t! Not necessarily. ‘Miss Rhodes has been English Mistress at Saint Cuthbert’s for twelve years. Of late has been erratic in temper. Health uncertain. Examination records less satisfactory.’ Well! If you represented another school, would you engage Miss Rhodes?”
Claire was silent. For the first time she realised the danger of this single-handed power. It meant—what might it not mean? It might mean that the mistress who was unfortunate enough to incur the dislike of her chief, might never be able to procure another post! She might be efficient, she might be hard-working; given congenial surroundings she might develop into a treasure untold, yet just because of a depreciating phrase in the wording of a testimonial, no chance would be vouchsafed. No doubt the vast majority of head mistresses were women of judgment, possessing a keen sense of justice and responsibility, yet the fact remained that a hasty impulse, a little access of temper in penning those all-important lines, might mean the end of a career, might mean poverty, might mean ruin!
Claire shivered, looked across the table at the thin, fretted face and made a hesitating appeal—