“I am a Political Hostess,
Thou art a Political Hostess,
He is a Political Hostess,
We are Political Hostesses,
Ye are Political Hostesses,
They are Political Hostesses.”
“Very good, dear, and only one mistake. He is a Political h-Hostess: Can you correct yourself? The error is so slight....”
But alas the prince was in no mood for study; and Mrs Montgomery very soon afterwards was obliged to let him go.
Moving a little anxiously about the room, her meditations turned upon the future.
With the advent of Elsie a new régime would be established: increasing Britishers would wish to visit Pisuerga; and it seemed a propitious moment to abandon teaching, and to inaugurate in Kairoulla an English hotel.
“I have no more rooms. I am quite full up!” she smiled, addressing the silver andirons in the grate.
And what a deliverance to have done with instructing unruly children, she reflected, going towards the glass mail-box attached to her vestibule door. Sometimes about this hour there would be a letter in it, but this evening there was only a picture postcard of a field mouse in a bonnet, from her old friend Mrs Bedley.
“We have Valmouth at last,” she read, “and was it you, my dear, who asked for The Beard Throughout the Ages? It is in much demand, but I am keeping it back anticipating a reply. Several of the plates are missing I see, among them, those of the late King Edward, and of Assur Bani Pal; I only mention it, that, you may know I shan’t blame you! We are having wonderful weather, and I am keeping pretty well, although poor Mrs Barleymoon, I fear, will not see through another winter. Trusting you are benefiting by the beautiful country air: your obedient servant to command,
Ann Bedley.