“I must do my duty,” Miss Minerva answered sternly.
“We were sometimes naughty ourselves when we were children,” Carmina pleaded. “And only the other day she had bread and water for tea. I am so fond of Zo! And besides—” she looked doubtfully at Miss Minerva—“I don’t think Mr. Le Frank is the sort of man to get on with children.”
After what had just passed between Mrs. Gallilee and herself, this expression of opinion excited the governess’s curiosity. “What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Well, my dear, for one thing Mr. Le Frank is so ugly. Don’t you agree with me?”
“I think you had better keep your opinion to yourself. If he heard of it—”
“Is he vain? My poor father used to say that all bad musicians were vain.”
“You don’t call Mr. Le Frank a bad musician?”
“Oh, but I do! I heard him at his concert. Mere execution of the most mechanical kind. A musical box is as good as that man’s playing. This is how he does it!”
Her girlish good spirits had revived in her friend’s company. She turned gaily to the piano, and amused herself by imitating Mr. Le Frank.
Another knock at the door—a single peremptory knock this time—stopped the performance.