“Indeed I do,” said Janet. “I am very fond of dancing. At least, I used to be when I was in the way of it.”
“I hope you are not out of the way of it now. We must have a dance at Christmas. I am sure you dance to perfection, Miss Summerhayes.”
“Oh, no,” said Janet, with a laugh. “I don’t do anything to perfection, but I confess I am fond of dancing.”
“And of music, too,” said the grateful Dolff. “I know you are—good music, not my sort. And yet you are so very kind as to play for me.”
“Oh, please don’t speak so. I am very glad to play—for anyone. Everybody is very kind to me. I am here to be of any use I can.”
“I hope, Miss Summerhayes,” said Dolff, growing very red, “that you don’t think I would presume to ask you—on that ground.”
“I don’t mean anything disagreeable,” said Janet. “I am sure you don’t ask me because I am the governess. But if your mother makes me like one of the family in other things, I must be so in this too.”
“How strange it is!” cried Dolff; and then he added, growing redder, “Don’t be angry with me, Miss Summerhayes. To think that being one of our family should be anything to you!”
“Why not?” said Janet. “It is always a great thing for a governess to have such a kind home.”
“A governess!” he said. “It hurts me to hear you call yourself a governess. Don’t, oh, don’t, please!”