Parents and Children (11 page)

James passed the book to his sister with disarming obedience.

‘An instance of the normal reluctance to obey,' she said, raising her brows and returning the book.

Miss Mitford opened the door.

‘I have had to come up for you,' she said.

‘True, Mitta,' said Daniel.

‘Supper has been brought in.'

‘What is it?' said Venice, while Isabel turned in milder interest.

‘Something made with eggs,' said Miss Mitford, on a plaintive note.

‘It seems that Mitta is old enough to dine downstairs,' said Graham, as the door closed, or he thought it did.

‘The bread of dependence is generally eaten upstairs,' said Miss Mitford.

‘So your speech could not wait for a moment,' said Daniel.

‘It is a pity it did not, Graham,' said Luce.

‘It is not so long since we were Mitta's pupils,' said Graham.

‘Does that make it better to see you turning out so awkwardly?' said his brother.

‘It may have prepared her for it.'

‘And you have been other people's pupil since.'

‘But no one ever taught me as much as dear old Mitta,' said Graham, in a tone of quotation.

‘It will soon be recognized that you have not made suitable progress since.'

‘Oh, you and your coming school success!'

‘Now why do people despise that kind of achievement?' said Luce, again with her hands about her knees. ‘Why belittle any kind of gift?'

‘We certainly never have any other kind,' said Graham, as if he were speaking to himself. ‘People who have that sort of success never do anything in after life, but neither do the other people. No one does anything in after life. I see that my only chance has been missed.'

‘Be quiet for a moment, boys,' said Luce, raising her hand. ‘I want to listen to the wheels of the house going round. Yes, Mother is going into the schoolroom to say good night. That means that the dinner gong will soon sound.'

‘And Graham will be indulging his vice,' said Daniel. ‘Can nothing at all be done?'

Eleanor had entered the room below.

‘Well, my dears, have you had a happy day?'

‘It has been much as usual,' said Isabel.

‘Well, that is happy, isn't it? Could you have any more done for you? And you have been out with Father. Surely that prevents the day from being ordinary.'

‘Yes, of course it does.'

‘And has James had a good day at school?'

‘Yes,' said James. ‘No, I have not been to school.'

‘Then weren't you to have tea in the nursery and go early to bed?'

‘Oh, yes,' said James, in a tone of sudden recollection.

‘You must not forget what we arrange, my boy. Your eyes look tired. What have you been doing?'

‘Nothing,' said James, in an almost wondering manner.

Eleanor left the subject. Her son's recent practice of reading had escaped her. She thought of him as a child, to whom a book was a task, a thing he had been long enough for her to form the habit.

‘You had better run upstairs, as you don't seem to have much appetite. Are you too tired to eat? Why, you are sitting on a book.'

‘Oh, that chair always seems lower than the others.'

‘There are plenty of other chairs. Why choose one so low that you have to put something on it? And surely a cushion would be more comfortable than a book.'

James looked as if this were a new idea.

‘What things boys do! Now kiss me and be off to bed.'

James embraced his mother with zest, and ran from the room with the lightness of one with no interest behind.

‘He is a dear little boy,' said Eleanor, in the tone of voicing a recent conclusion, which marked her approval of James. ‘Did not anyone – did not either of you girls remember that he was to go to bed?'

‘We all four forgot,' said Miss Mitford. ‘That seems to show it was not an easy thing to remember.'

Eleanor smiled only to the extent required.

‘He is young to remember everything for himself, with several people – with two sisters older than he is, in the room.'

‘I am older than he is too,' said Miss Mitford.

‘This is a thing that only concerned himself,' said Isabel.

‘My dear, the little boy's health is a matter of equal concern to everyone. I am sure Miss Mitford agrees with me.'

‘Not that it is of equal concern,' said Miss Mitford.

‘So you will remember another time, my dear,' said Eleanor, not looking at the governess. ‘Come now and say good night, and then have a happy hour before you go to bed.'

‘What is to make our happiness?' said Isabel. ‘I wish Mother had told us.'

‘She could have done so,' said Miss Mitford.

‘I don't wish she had told us anything more,' said Venice.

‘There are no books I have not read,' said Isabel.

‘You must fall back on your old, tried favourites,' said Miss Mitford. ‘There is no pleasure equal to it.'

‘You don't think so yourself. You know you would rather have new ones. You have them from the library every week.'

‘Yes. One of my few extravagances.'

‘One of her two extravagances,' murmured Venice.

‘Mother says she wonders you have time to read them all,' said Isabel.

‘Does she?' said Miss Mitford, gently raising her eyes. ‘I never forget the claims of my own life.'

‘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.

‘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 it 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.'