“I think the world is a much nicer place than most people allow, Aunt Mildred.”
“You have seen such a great deal of it,” Lady Mildred replied. “I am not sure but that you have seen enough of the Wortherham corner of it, however. I think you are beyond Miss Lloyd’s institution. What you should have now is some first-rate teaching in France and Germany.”
Claudia’s eyes glistened.
“Of course I should like that very much,” she said; “but I do think the teaching very good at Miss Lloyd’s—it has been already such a test to me of what I really do know.”
The telegram with a favourable reply about the rooms came that morning. The very next day saw Lady Mildred and Claudia installed in them. Claudia had never been in London before for more than a day or two at a time, and in spite of the dreary winter weather she was full of delight. Even the slight fog, which of course greeted them on their awaking the next morning, could not depress her spirits.
“I have always wanted so to see a real London fog,” she said with satisfaction, when her aunt called her back from her station at the window.
“But, my dear, this is not a real fog,” said Lady Mildred laughing. “It is foggy, certainly; but a real London fog, as you call it, would rather astonish you.”
“I hope we shall have one then, while we are in town,” said Claudia, naïvely.
And Lady Mildred was still laughing at her when Mr Miller was announced, and Claudia was dismissed.
“What a very charming girl,” began the old gentleman, as she left the room. Everybody always did say something of the kind about Claudia, but in the present case the remark struck Lady Mildred as rather forced. It seemed to her that Mr Miller was deferring the evil moment of some communication he had to make to her. “Is she a relation of yours—or—or perhaps of Mr Osbert’s?” he went on with a sudden gleam of interest.