"And I do wish it, and that was not said a bit like Isabella, so I will forgive you, and we will make up and be friends, as the children say," and she gave her hand to Amy. "And now tell me, Miss Neville, by way of changing the subject, where, when, and how you became acquainted with my cousin."
"I am governess to her children," replied Amy, quietly.
Julia stopped suddenly, and looked at her in surprise.
"And are you really the governess of whom Edith and Fanny have talked to me so much? Why, you cannot be much older than I."
"Do you not consider yourself old enough to be a governess?"
"Well, yes, of course I do; but you are so different to what I always pictured to myself a governess ought to be. They should be ugly, cross old maids, odious creatures, in fact I know mine was."
"Why so?" asked Amy.
"Oh, she did a hundred disagreeable things. All people have manias for something, so there is, perhaps, nothing surprising in her being fond of bags. She had bags for everything; for her boots and shoes, thimble and scissors, brushes and combs, thread, buttons,—even to her india-rubber. A small piece of coloured calico made me literally sick, for it was sure to be converted into a bag, and a broken needle into a pin, with a piece of sealing-wax as the head."
"She was not wasteful," said Amy, who could not forbear laughing at the picture drawn.