“I don’t ask you for more than a guinea,” said Mrs. Hilary, with a parade of forbearance.
“It would be the same,” I replied politely, “if you asked me for a thousand;” with which I handed her half-a-crown. She held it in her open hand, regarding it scornfully.
“Yes,” I continued, taking a seat, “I feel that pecuniary1 gifts—”
“Half-a-crown!”
“Are you a poor substitute for personal service. May not I accompany you to the ceremony?”
“I dare say you spent as much as this on wine with your lunch!”
“I was in a mad mood today,” I answered apologetically. “What are they taught at the school?”
“Above all, to be good girls,” said Mrs. Hilary earnestly. “What are you sneering2 at, Mr. Carter?”
“Nothing,” said I hastily, and I added with a sigh, “I suppose it’s all right.”
“I should like,” said Mrs. Hilary meditatively3, “if I had not other duties, to dedicate my life to the service of girls.”
“I should think twice about that, if I were you,” said I, shaking my head.
“By the way, Mr. Carter, I don’t know if I’ve ever spoken unkindly of Lady Mickleham. I hope not.”
“Hope,” said I, “is not yet taxed.”
“If I have, I’m very sorry. She’s been most kind in undertaking4 to give away the prizes today. There must be some good in her.”
“Oh, don’t be hasty,” I implored5.
“I always wanted to think well of her.”
“Ah! Now I never did.”
“And Lord Mickleham is coming, too. He’ll be most useful.”
“That settles it,” I exclaimed. “I may not be an earl, but I have a perfect right to be useful. I’ll go too.”
“I wonder if you’ll behave properly,” said Mrs. Hilary doubtfully.
I held out a half-sovereign, three half-crowns, and a shilling.
“Oh, well, you may come, since Hilary can’t,” said Mrs. Hilary.
“You mean he won’t,” I observed.
“He has always been prevented hitherto,” said she, with dignity.
So I went, and it proved a most agreeable expedition. There were 200 girls in blue frocks and white aprons6 (the girl three from the end of the fifth row was decidedly pretty)—a nice lot of prize books—the Micklehams (Dolly in demure7 black), ourselves, and the matron. All went well. Dolly gave away the prizes; Mrs. Hilary and Archie made little speeches. Then the matron came to me. I was sitting modestly at the back of the platform, a little distance behind the others.
“Mr. Musgrave,” said the matron to me, “we’re so glad to see you here at last. Won’t you say a few words?”
“It would be a privilege,” I responded cordially, “but unhappily I have a sore throat.”
The matron (who was a most respectable woman) said, “Dear, dear!” but did not press the point. Evidently, however, she liked me, for when we went to have a cup of tea, she got me in a corner and began to tell me all about the work. It was extremely interesting. Then the matron observed:
“And what an angel Mrs. Musgrave is!”
“Well, I should hardly call her that,” said I, with a smile.
“Oh, you mustn’t depreciate8 her—you, of all men!” cried the matron, with a somewhat ponderous9 archness. “Really I envy you her constant society.”
“I assure you,” said I, “I see very little of her.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I only go to the house about once a fortnight—Oh, it’s not my fault. She won’t have me there oftener.”
“What do you mean? I beg your pardon. Perhaps I’ve touched on a painful—?”
“Not at all, not at all,” said I suavely10. “It is very natural. I am neither young nor handsome, Mrs. Wiggins. I am not complaining.”
The matron gazed at me.
“Only seeing her here,” I pursued, “you have no idea of what she is at home. She has chosen to forbid me to come to her house—”
“Her house?”
“It happens to be more hers than mine,” I explained. “To forbid me, I say, more than once to come to her house. No doubt she had her reasons.”
“Nothing could justify11 it,” said the matron, directing a wondering glance at Mrs. Hilary.
“Do not let us blame her,” said I. “It is just an unfortunate accident. She is not as fond of me as I could wish, Mrs. Wiggins; and she is a great deal fonder than I could wish of—”
I broke off. Mrs. Hilary was walking toward us. I think she was pleased to see me getting............