She crossed her hands before her, and went down the walk, taking the path to the house. Proceeding straight up to the school-room, she met Cyril on the stairs. He had apparently been dressing himself for the evening, and was going out to spend it. The governess caught him abruptly, pulled him inside the school-room, and closed the door.
"I say, mademoiselle, what's that for?" asked Cyril, believing, by the fierce look of the young lady, that she was about to take some summary vengeance upon him.
"Cyril! you tell me. Where is it that Herbert goes to of an evening? Every evening—every evening?"
Cyril stared excessively. "What does it concern you to know where he goes, mademoiselle?" returned he.
"I want to know for my own reasons, and that's enough for you, Monsieur Cyril. Where does he go?"
"He goes out," responded Cyril.
The governess stamped her foot petulantly. "I could tell you that he goes out. I ask you where it is that he goes?"
"How should I know?" was Cyril's answer. "It's not my business."
"Don't you know?" demanded mademoiselle.
"No, that I don't," heartily spoke Cyril. "Do you suppose I watch him, mademoiselle? He'd pretty soon pitch into me, if he caught me at that game. I dare say he goes to billiards."