“Mother,” said Agnes, breaking in through the pause that followed Uncle John’s remark, “did you say that I should take my French lesson first?”
“No: who said that I did?” Mrs. Dainty answered, without a moment’s reflection.
“Why, Miss Harper said so, and made me give my French recitation before I was ready for it.”
“I said no such thing.” Mrs. Dainty spoke with some indignation, born of a vague notion, from what Agnes had said, that the young governess was assuming arbitrary rule over the children, and falsely quoting her as authority. “I said no such thing! What does she mean by it?”
“Well, she said you did, and made me say a lesson before I had half learned it. That’s not the way to do!”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. “Here comes the trouble I feared! Give these vulgar people a position a little in advance of what they have been used to, and forthwith they take on airs. I saw it in the girl at the first interview. I knew then that she wouldn’t suit, and if my judgment hadn’t been overruled she never would have come into the house.”
Mrs. Dainty glanced toward meddlesome Uncle John as she said this. But Uncle John did not seem to be in the least disturbed.
“Agnes,” said he, looking across the table at the injured and complaining girl, “what lesson did you propose to recite in place of your French?”
Agnes flushed a little as she answered,—
“My music-lesson.”