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  ‘You would not like to be a child again.’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘I would rather be a woman, even if I had to be –’

  ‘You will be able to be one, without being a governess,’ said Miss Mitford, in an encouraging tone, beginning to cut the leaves of a volume that required it.

  ‘Didn’t you want to be a governess?’

  ‘Why is it said that people judge other people by themselves? It is the last thing they do.’

  Isabel was silent and Venice drew near to listen.

  ‘Of course I am different,’ said Miss Mitford, keeping her lips steady.

  ‘I meant there were other things you might have been,’ said Isabel.

  ‘I do not see what they were.’

  ‘I should think there are worse things.’

  ‘Yes, so should I, but I believe it is not generally thought.’

  ‘What would you have liked to be?’ said Venice.

  ‘What I am, with enough money to live on.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Just my plain, odd self,’ said Miss Mitford.

  ‘You would not have liked to be married?’

  ‘No, I never wanted a full, normal life.”

  ‘I don’t think I do,’ said Isabel. ‘Do you, Venice?’

  ‘I don’t know; I am not sure.’

  ‘You would pay the price of full success,’ said Miss Mitford, in a tone of understanding.

  ‘I don’t see why spinsters have any less success,’ said Isabel.

  ‘Well, they have no proof that they have been sought,’ said Miss Mitford.

  ‘Have you ever been sought?’ said Venice, in a tone that recalled Honor’s when she asked Hatton her age.

  ‘You must not probe the secrets of a woman’s heart,’ said Miss Mitford, putting down the knife and taking up the book.

  The door opened and James entered in his dressing-gown, and leaving the door ajar to indicate a transitory errand, began to collect his possessions. He picked up his book, put it under his chin and piled other objects upon it, and using it in this way, went from the room.

  ‘He will think about it more, if he does not finish it,’ said Miss Mitford. It is better to fulfil the spirit than the letter of your mother’s wish.’

  ‘James is fortunate in getting the first,’ said Isabel. ‘There is nothing in the book that I did not know.’

  ‘James will not understand it,’ said Venice.

  ‘People do understand things when they read them for the first time,’ said Miss Mitford.

  ‘Yes,’ said Venice, who had been struck by this herself.

  ‘In a year I shall read what I like,’ said Isabel. ‘When we are sixteen, we can choose from the library.’

  ‘You will browse on the wholesome pastures of English literature,’ said Miss Mitford. ‘Browse is the wrong word. But it is right to tell us they are wholesome.’

  ‘Well, they are,’ said Isabel.

  ‘Yes, that is why it is well to know.’

  ‘I wonder if Mother knows,’ said Venice, laughing. ‘I hope she will not go up to see if James is all right.’

  Miss Mitford raised her eyes.

  ‘Won’t he think of it himself?’ said Isabel, meaning that there were precautionary measures.

  ‘You are as afraid of Mother as we are, Mitta,’ said Venice.

  ‘Not quite. She has no affection for me, and that puts me outside her power. But I am afraid of her, of course. I am a sensitive, shrinking creature at heart.’

  ‘Would you mind if she - ?’

  ‘Dismissed me? Yes. This is to be my last post. I shall retire when Honor grows up.’

  ‘What will you do then?’ said Isabel.

  ‘I can live with my relations, if I pay them.’

  ‘But you don’t like being with them. You are always glad to come back.’

  ‘And yet I think I shall enjoy living with them. What an odd incalculable person I am!’

  ‘You ought not to have to pay relations.’

  ‘Well, the English have no family feelings. That is, none of the kind you mean. They have them, and one of them is that relations must cause no expense.’

  ‘Perhaps they are poor,’ said Venice.

  ‘Not as poor as you think, considering that I am a governess.’

  ‘Perhaps they are not near relations.’

  ‘Yes, they are. It is near relations who have family feelings.’

  ‘You might as well live with friends,’ said Venice.

  ‘Well, there is the tie of blood.’

  ‘What difference does that make, if people forget it?’

  ‘They know other people remember it. That is another family feeling.’

  ‘I shall not let Isabel work, when I am married. She will always live with me.’

  ‘I may be married myself,’ said Isabel. ‘I am not quite sure that I shall not.’

  ‘You will have enough money to pay your sister, without working,’ said Miss Mitford.

  ‘I should not want her to pay,’ said Venice.

  ‘People with families often need money the most,’ said Isabel. ‘You might be dependent on my contribution to the house.’

  ‘That is another set of family feelings,’ said Miss Mitford.

  There was silence.

  ‘We know things we should not know, if we had not had you, Mitta,’ said Isabel.

  ‘That is the purpose of my being with you.’

  ‘I meant things apart from lessons.’

  ‘Well, you know them sooner,’ said Miss Mitford.

  Chapter 4

  ‘We have not tidied the nursery,’ said Honor, in a nonchalant tone to the new governess. ‘Hatton told us to do it, but we took no notice.’

  ‘Then you had better do it now. The room is not in a suitable state for lessons.’

  The pupils exchanged a glance over this unforeseen attitude.

  ‘Why don’t you do it?’ said Gavin, in a just audible tone.

  ‘I did not make the room untidy.’

  Honor kicked some toys towards a cupboard, and Gavin idly seconded her. Both had an air of putting no value on the objects that had engaged them.

  ‘Why were you playing with the toys, if you do not care about them?’ said Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘We didn’t say we didn’t,’ said Gavin.

  ‘We have nothing else to play with,’ said Honor.

  ‘Will she give us some more?’ said Gavin, with a nudge to his sister.

  ‘I am here to help you to work, not to play. Why do you use your feet instead of your hands?’

  Miss Pilbeam was a large, pale woman of twenty-seven, with rather solid features, small, honest eyes, large, white hands, a sober, reliable expression, and a smile that seemed a deliberate adaptation of her face. Her qualification for teaching was her being presumed to know more than young children, and she was required to produce no others.

  ‘That will do for a summary clearance,’ said Honor, drawing Miss Pilbeam’s eyes.

  ‘Yes, it will do,’ said Gavin.

  ‘Now come and show me if you can use your hands as well,’ said Miss Pilbeam, putting a smile on her features and some copybooks on the table.

  ‘We don’t begin with writing,’ said Honor.

  ‘What do you usually do first?’

  ‘Spelling or history or French or sums. That is all we learn, except a little Latin,’ said Honor, in an easy tone that forestalled a possibly slight opinion of these studies.

  ‘Well, we will begin with writing today.’

  ‘Why should it be different?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Because I wish it to be.’

  ‘Is that a reason?’

  ‘You will have to learn that it is.’

  Honor thrust her pen into the ink so sharply that it spluttered.

  ‘The poor, old cloth!’ she said, indicating another slight opinion.

  ‘It is a pretty cloth. It is a pity you have made it so dirty.’

  Honor took up a corner of i
t and wiped her pen, in further suggestion of her attitude.

  ‘It is really to protect the table,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it must save it a good deal,’ said Miss Pilbeam.

  Honor laughed.

  ‘Haven’t you a pen-wiper?’ said the governess.

  ‘No.’

  ‘A thing to wipe pens?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Of course,’ said his sister.

  ‘I will make you one,’ said Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to buy them,’ said Gavin.

  ‘They have them in shops, but I can make you one quite well.’

  ‘Why don’t you buy one?’ said Gavin in a rough tone.

  ‘Because it is not necessary.’

  ‘We always buy things,’ said Honor.

  ‘I will teach you how to make some.’

  ‘What will you teach us to make?’

  ‘Pen wipers and needle-cases and blotters and several other things.’

  ‘Is she supposed to teach us that?’ said Gavin, aside to his sister.

  ‘I am not obliged to,’ said Miss Pilbeam, ‘but perhaps you would like to learn.’

  ‘I don’t want to learn things I don’t have to,’ said Honor.

  ‘Would she be allowed to teach us them in lesson-time?’ said Gavin, in another aside.

  ‘I should not let you do it then,’ said Miss Pilbeam making the necessary adjustment. ‘We will remember at some other time.’

  ‘Do you know how to make a bow and arrow?’

  ‘Yes, I can teach you that.’

  ‘I only asked if you knew.’

  ‘A bow and arrows,’ said Honor.

  ‘Would you like to make them too?’ said Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘Yes, I think I should.’

  ‘Then we will make some one day after lessons.’

  ‘Don’t you go home then?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Yes, as a rule. But sometimes I can stay with you for a little while.’

  ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘No, but sometimes you might like me to.’

  Honor and Gavin looked at each other, and broke into laughter at the assumption of welcome.

  ‘You can go on with your writing now. We shall not talk so much another day.’

  ‘It is you who are talking,’ said Gavin.

  ‘Well, I must stop now.’

  ‘Are you going to stay today?’

  ‘No. I must go home this morning. My father wants to see me.’

  ‘Oh, has she got a home?’ said Gavin, to his sister, turning his thumb towards Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘Yes,’ said the latter, smiling. ‘Where should I live, if I had not?’

  ‘You might live in the streets.’

  ‘Do you know many people who do that?’

  ‘No, but we don’t really know you.’

  ‘Do you have to do what your father tells you?’ said Honor.

  ‘I like to when I can. So do you, I suppose.’

  ‘Why does he want to see you?’

  ‘He will like to know how I have got on.’

  ‘With us, do you mean?’ said Honor, surprised at this question’s having any interest outside.

  ‘Yes, and that reminds me that we are not progressing very fast. Let me see your copies.’

  Honor slapped her book down in front of Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘It is not very good, and you have smudged it.’

  ‘It is as good as I care to do it,’ said Honor, leaning back.

  ‘Haven’t you got to see mine?’ said Gavin, thrusting it forward.

  ‘Yes, I want to see yours too. This is not good either. I think you can both do better.’

  ‘We might with an effort,’ said Honor.

  ‘Then you must make the effort in future. Now we will go on to history.’

  ‘Do you want ordinary string for a bow and arrow?’ said Gavin.

  ‘No, a special kind. We might have to buy that. How much pocket money do you have?’

  ‘Oh, about threepence a week,’ said Honor, casting a vagueness over the insignificance of the sum.

  ‘That is what we have,’ said her brother.

  ‘You can do a good deal with threepence a week,’ said Miss Pilbeam.

  ‘Did you have as much when you were a child?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Yes, that is what I used to have.’

  ‘Could your father afford to give it to you?’

  ‘Yes he used to manage that.’

  ‘Then why do you have to be a governess?’

  ‘Well, I want more than that now.’

  ‘How much do you have?’ said Honor, with her eyes and her hands engaged with her pen, and her voice sounding as if it barely detached itself.

  ‘You know you should not ask that question.’

  ‘You asked us how much we had.’

  ‘That is quite different. Get out your history books.’

  ‘We only have one book. Nevill will have to share it too.’

  ‘Is that your little brother? He looks such a dear little boy.’

  ‘He isn’t,’ said Gavin. ‘He keeps doing the same thing.’

  ‘Well, I shall judge for myself. Now I will read you a chapter and ask you questions afterwards.’

  Honor rose and threw herself on the sofa.

  ‘You must not sit there, Honor. Come back to your place.’

  ‘I always do when I am being read to.’

  ‘This is not a story book. Sit up and pay attention.’

  ‘Is reading teaching?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Yes, when I am going to ask you questions. It is all a part of our work.’

  ‘But we shall be telling you; not you us.’

  ‘I hope that is how it will be.’

  ‘Is teaching work?’ said Honor.

  ‘Yes, and learning too, when they are both done as they should be.’

  ‘Will her teaching be done like that?’ said Gavin, to his sister.

  ‘I hope it will be; I shall do my best,’ said Miss Pilbeam, choosing to use a simple, sincere tone, as she sometimes chose to wear a smile. ‘Now will both of you listen?’

  Miss Pilbeam read, while her pupils occupied themselves with the only thing in front of them, the tablecloth. Gavin plaiting the fringe, and Honor drawing out threads and weaving a string. When Eleanor entered, Miss Pilbeam was the only one who continued her employment, and she pursued it as if unaware of interruption, until the visitor spoke.

  ‘Well, how do you find the new little pupils, Miss Pilbeam?’

  Miss Pilbeam raised steady eyes.

  ‘I hardly know what to expect of them yet.’

  ‘What lesson are you doing?’

  ‘We are beginning history.’

  ‘They have done a good deal of that, I think.’

  ‘I shall soon find out what stage they are in.’

  ‘She has to read it out of the book herself,’ muttered Gavin.

  ‘What did you say, dear?’ said Eleanor. ‘What did he say. Honor?’

  ‘He said Miss Pilbeam was reading from the book. We are to answer questions afterwards.’

  Miss Pilbeam glanced from one of her pupils to the other, without raising her eyes. She was perhaps the first to begin to make progress.

  ‘That is a good way of using the book,’ said Eleanor. ‘I will come in another day to hear how they acquit themselves. How is your father, Miss Pilbeam? He must miss your mother very much.’

  ‘Yes, he does. He is in better spirits, but he is very dependent upon me.’

  ‘You are a useful person in two households. I hope this little woman will grow up to be like you.’

  Honor looked surprised.

  ‘Don’t ycu hope you will, dear? You would like her to, wouldn’t you Gavin?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. If people are useful, it is only nice for other people, and not for them.’

  ‘She is safe with her brother, isn’t she, Miss Pilbeam?’ said Eleanor, smiling as she left the room, and unconscious of any implication upon Miss Pilbeam’s lot.
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  ‘Has your mother gone away?’ said Gavin.

  ‘She is dead. She died over a year ago.’

  Gavin and Honor looked at each other and broke into awkward mirth.

  ‘Then why don’t you wear black?’ said Honor, as if this excused their outbreak.

  ‘I have just gone out of it.’

  ‘Then you don’t mind any more.’

  ‘Of course I do. Clothes do not make any difference.’

  ‘Then why do people wear black? Isn’t it to show that they mind?’

  ‘It is just a custom.’

  ‘Does your father wear black?’ said Gavin.

  ‘He wears a black band on his arm. That is what men do.’

  ‘Then he minds more than you do?’

  ‘Yes, I am afraid he minds even more than that.’

  ‘Would he rather you had died?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps he would.’

  ‘I should hate anyone who wanted me to die,’ said Honor.

  ‘Is he glad you have stopped minding ?’ said Gavin.

  ‘You know I have not stopped. Now we will go on with the lesson. I hope I shall not have to tell your mother that you are inattentive.’

  Honor and Gavin shared the hope to the point of allowing the lesson to proceed to its end. Then Gavin resumed the talk.

  ‘What is your father, Miss Pilbeam?’

  ‘He is a veterinary surgeon.’

  ‘What kind of a surgeon is that? An ophthalmic surgeon is one who cures people’s eyes.’

  ‘Yes. A veterinary surgeon is one who cures animals.’

  ‘Animals ? Just horses and cows ?’

  ‘All kinds. Hunters and hounds and everything,’ said Miss Pilbeam, carrying the subject into its higher sphere.

  ‘Then your father is not a real doctor?’

  ‘He is something different and something the same as well,’ said Miss Pilbeam, in a tone of throwing full light on her pupils’ minds.

  ‘Then he is not a gentleman?’

  ‘He is an educated man. He passed very hard examinations.’

  ‘As hard as those for people like Daniel and Graham?’

  ‘Yes, I should think nearly as hard.’

  ‘But he doesn’t earn enough for you not to be a governess.’

  ‘He likes me to do something useful.’

  ‘But teaching isn’t useful unless you know enough to teach.’

  ‘I know enough to teach you.’

  ‘But you had to read the history out of a book. You didn’t know it in your head.’