Lady Carlotta stepped out on to the platform of the small wayside station and took a turn or two up and down its uninteresting length, to kill time till the train should be pleased to proceed on its way. Then, in the roadway beyond, she saw a horse struggling with a more than ample load, and a carter of the sort that seems to bear a sullen hatred against the animal that helps him to earn a living. Lady Carlotta promptly betook her to the roadway, and put rather a different complexion on the struggle. Certain of her acquaintances were wont to give her plentiful admonition as to the undesirability of interfering on behalf of a distressed animal, such interference being \u201cnone of her business.\u201d Only once had she put the doctrine of non-interference into practice, when one of its most eloquent exponents had been besieged for nearly three hours in a small and extremely uncomfortable may-tree by an angry boar-pig, while Lady Carlotta, on the other side of the fence, had proceeded with the water-colour sketch she was engaged on, and refused to interfere between the boar and his prisoner. It is to be feared that she lost the friendship of the ultimately rescued lady. On this occasion she merely lost the train, which gave way to the first sign of impatience it had shown throughout the journey, and steamed off without her. She bore the desertion with philosophical indifference; her friends and relations were thoroughly well used to the fact of her luggage arriving without her. She wired a vague non-committal message to her destination to say that she was coming on \u201cby another train.\u201d Before she had time to think what her next move might be she was confronted by an imposingly attired lady, who seemed to be taking a prolonged mental inventory of her clothes and looks.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou must be Miss Hope, the governess I\u2019ve come to meet,\u201d said the apparition, in a tone that admitted of very little argument.<\/p>\n
\u201cVery well, if I must I must,\u201d said Lady Carlotta to herself with dangerous meekness.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am Mrs. Quabarl,\u201d continued the lady; \u201cand where, pray, is your luggage?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s gone astray,\u201d said the alleged governess, falling in with the excellent rule of life that the absent are always to blame; the luggage had, in point of fact, behaved with perfect correctitude. \u201cI\u2019ve just telegraphed about it,\u201d she added, with a nearer approach to truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow provoking,\u201d said Mrs. Quabarl; \u201cthese railway companies are so careless. However, my maid can lend you things for the night,\u201d and she led the way to her car.<\/p>\n
During the drive to the Quabarl mansion Lady Carlotta was impressively introduced to the nature of the charge that had been thrust upon her; she learned that Claude and Wilfrid were delicate, sensitive young people, that Irene had the artistic temperament highly developed, and that Viola was something or other else of a mould equally commonplace among children of that class and type in the twentieth century.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish them not only to be taught<\/i>,\u201d said Mrs. Quabarl, \u201cbut interested<\/i> in what they learn. In their history lessons, for instance, you must try to make them feel that they are being introduced to the life-stories of men and women who really lived, not merely committing a mass of names and dates to memory. French, of course, I shall expect you to talk at meal-times several days in the week.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI shall talk French four days of the week and Russian in the remaining three.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRussian? My dear Miss Hope, no one in the house speaks or understands Russian.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat will not embarrass me in the least,\u201d said Lady Carlotta coldly.<\/p>\n
Mrs. Quabarl, to use a colloquial expression, was knocked off her perch. She was one of those imperfectly self-assured individuals who are magnificent and autocratic as long as they are not seriously opposed. The least show of unexpected resistance goes a long way towards rendering them cowed and apologetic. When the new governess failed to express wondering admiration of the large newly-purchased and expensive car, and lightly alluded to the superior advantages of one or two makes which had just been put on the market, the discomfiture of her patroness became almost abject. Her feelings were those which might have animated a general of ancient warfaring days, on beholding his heaviest battle-elephant ignominiously driven off the field by slingers and javelin throwers.<\/p>\n
At dinner that evening, although reinforced by her husband, who usually duplicated her opinions and lent her moral support generally, Mrs. Quabarl regained none of her lost ground. The governess not only helped herself well and truly to wine, but held forth with considerable show of critical knowledge on various vintage matters, concerning which the Quabarls were in no wise able to pose as authorities. Previous governesses had limited their conversation on the wine topic to a respectful and doubtless sincere expression of a preference for water. When this one went as far as to recommend a wine firm in whose hands you could not go very far wrong Mrs. Quabarl thought it time to turn the conversation into more usual channels.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe got very satisfactory references about you from Canon[1]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Teep,\u201d she observed; \u201ca very estimable man, I should think.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDrinks like a fish and beats his wife, otherwise a very lovable character,\u201d said the governess imperturbably.<\/p>\n \u201cMy dear<\/i> Miss Hope! I trust you are exaggerating,\u201d exclaimed the Quabarls in unison.<\/p>\n \u201cOne must in justice admit that there is some provocation,\u201d continued the romancer. \u201cMrs. Teep is quite the most irritating bridge-player that I have ever sat down with; her leads and declarations would condone a certain amount of brutality in her partner, but to souse her with the contents of the only soda-water syphon in the house on a Sunday afternoon, when one couldn\u2019t get another, argues an indifference to the comfort of others which I cannot altogether overlook. You may think me hasty in my judgments, but it was practically on account of the syphon incident that I left.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe will talk of this some other time,\u201d said Mrs. Quabarl hastily.<\/p>\n \u201cI shall never allude to it again,\u201d said the governess with decision.<\/p>\n Mr. Quabarl made a welcome diversion by asking what studies the new instructress proposed to inaugurate on the morrow.<\/p>\n \u201cHistory to begin with,\u201d she informed him.<\/p>\n \u201cAh, history,\u201d he observed sagely; \u201cnow in teaching them history you must take care to interest them in what they learn. You must make them feel that they are being introduced to the life-stories of men and women who really lived \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve told her all that,\u201d interposed Mrs. Quabarl.<\/p>\n \u201cI teach history on the Schartz-Metterklume method,\u201d said the governess loftily.<\/p>\n \u201cAh, yes,\u201d said her listeners, thinking it expedient to assume an acquaintance at least with the name.<\/p>\n * * * *<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you children doing out here?\u201d demanded Mrs. Quabarl the next morning, on finding Irene sitting rather glumly at the head of the stairs, while her sister was perched in an attitude of depressed discomfort on the window-seat behind her, with a wolf-skin rug almost covering her.<\/p>\n \u201cWe are having a history lesson,\u201d came the unexpected reply. \u201cI am supposed to be Rome, and Viola up there is the she-wolf; not a real wolf, but the figure of one that the Romans used to set store by \u2014 I forget why. Claude and Wilfrid have gone to fetch the shabby women.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe shabby women?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, they\u2019ve got to carry them off. They didn\u2019t want to, but Miss Hope got one of father\u2019s fives-bats[2]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0and said she\u2019d give them a number nine spanking if they didn\u2019t, so they\u2019ve gone to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n A loud, angry screaming from the direction of the lawn drew Mrs. Quabarl thither in hot haste, fearful lest the threatened castigation might even now be in process of infliction. The outcry, however, came principally from the two small daughters of the lodge-keeper, who were being hauled and pushed towards the house by the panting and dishevelled Claude and Wilfrid, whose task was rendered even more arduous by the incessant, if not very effectual, attacks of the captured maidens\u2019 small brother. The governess, fives-bat in hand, sat negligently on the stone balustrade, presiding over the scene with the cold impartiality of a Goddess of Battles. A furious and repeated chorus of \u201cI\u2019ll tell muvver\u201d rose from the lodge-children, but the lodge-mother, who was hard of hearing, was for the moment immersed in the preoccupation of her washtub.<\/p>\n After an apprehensive glance in the direction of the lodge (the good woman was gifted with the highly militant temper which is sometimes the privilege of deafness) Mrs. Quabarl flew indignantly to the rescue of the struggling captives.<\/p>\n \u201cWilfrid! Claude! Let those children go at once. Miss Hope, what on earth is the meaning of this scene?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEarly Roman history; the Sabine Women[3]<\/sup><\/a>, don\u2019t you know? It\u2019s the Schartz\u2013Metterklume method to make children understand history by acting it themselves; fixes it in their memory, you know. Of course, if, thanks to your interference, your boys go through life thinking that the Sabine women ultimately escaped, I really cannot be held responsible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou may be very clever and modern, Miss Hope,\u201d said Mrs. Quabarl firmly, \u201cbut I should like you to leave here by the next train. Your luggage will be sent after you as soon as it arrives.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not certain exactly where I shall be for the next few days,\u201d said the dismissed instructress of youth; \u201cyou might keep my luggage till I wire my address. There are only a couple of trunks and some golf-clubs and a leopard cub.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA leopard cub!\u201d gasped Mrs. Quabarl. Even in her departure this extraordinary person seemed destined to leave a trail of embarrassment behind her.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s rather left off being a cub; it\u2019s more than half-grown, you know. A fowl every day and a rabbit on Sundays is what it usually gets. Raw beef makes it too excitable. Don\u2019t trouble about getting the car for me, I\u2019m rather inclined for a walk.\u201d<\/p>\n And Lady Carlotta strode out of the Quabarl horizon.<\/p>\n The advent of the genuine Miss Hope, who had made a mistake as to the day on which she was due to arrive, caused a turmoil which that good lady was quite unused to inspiring. Obviously the Quabarl family had been woefully befooled, but a certain amount of relief came with the knowledge.<\/p>\n \u201cHow tiresome for you, dear Carlotta,\u201d said her hostess, when the overdue guest ultimately arrived; \u201chow very tiresome losing your train and having to stop overnight in a strange place.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh dear, no,\u201d said Lady Carlotta; \u201cnot at all tiresome \u2014 for me.\u201d<\/p>\n