It was the first thing Mr. Neelands could think of, and he was quite pleased with it when he said it. It had a professional, business-like ring, which pleased him.
"A very excellent set of books, which the Department of Education desire to see in every school," Mr. Neelands elaborated.
Then Bertie, always anxious to be helpful and to do a good deed, leapt to the door, almost upsetting Mr. Neelands in his haste. Bertie had an idea! Mr. Neelands did not connect his sudden departure with his recent scheme of enriching the life of the country districts with the set of books just mentioned, and therefore waited rather impatiently for the stableboy's return.
Bertie burst in, with the same enthusiasm.
"See, Mister, here's the teacher you want; I got her for you—she was just going to school."
Bertie's face bore the same glad rapture that veils the countenance of a cat when she throws a mouse at your feet with a casual "How's that."
Mr. Neelands found himself facing a brown-eyed, well-dressed young lady, with big question marks in both eyes, question marks which in a very dignified way demanded to know what it was all about.
In his confusion, Mr. Neelands, new in the art of diplomacy, blundered:
"Is this Miss Watson?" he stammered.
The reply was definite.