Читать книгу The Squire's Little Girl - Meade L. T. - Страница 4

“Oh, you have brought all those horrid dingy books!” said Phyllis, seeing that Miss Fleet carried a huge pile of half-worn-out lesson-books in her arms.

“Keep away, Phyllis, a minute; I want to put them on the table,” said the governess.

“What stupid things they are!” said Phyllis, forgetting for a minute the excitement which the thought of her little guests had given her, in her dismay at the appearance of the books.

She took up one volume after another, letting it fall on the table with an expression of great disdain.

“Child’s Guide to Knowledge,” she said. “Horrid book. And oh! what is this? Mrs Markham’s History of England. I hate Mrs Markham. Oh, and this – and this! – I say, Miss Fleet!”

“Phyllis, I wish to speak to you,” said her governess.

“What is it now?” said Phyllis, but she was aroused by the tone.

She looked full up into Miss Fleet’s small grey eyes, and her heart beat fast. For although Miss Fleet was really affectionate to the little girl, and was as a rule gentle, there were times when she could be quite the reverse. Phyllis saw that such a time had arrived.

“I wish to speak to you,” said Miss Fleet. “During lessons you are to be industrious, careful, studious, and respectful. These books are not to be treated with levity; they are to be studied, and pondered over, and digested.”

“Well, let’s begin and get it over,” said Phyllis.

She sat down by the table, drew a blotting-pad towards her and a bottle of ink, and looked up at her governess.

“And, oh, Miss Fleet! I want to say something. I can’t go with you to Dartfield to-day.”

“Why not, pray?”

“The four Hilchesters, the Rectory children, are coming here; I asked them yesterday. They are coming immediately after lunch, and they will stay to supper. I thought perhaps we might have supper in the evenings now that father is away. You don’t mind, do you, Fleetie dear?”

“But I do mind very much indeed,” said Miss Fleet. “What business had you to ask the Hilchesters without my permission?”

Phyllis bit her lips; her face grew scarlet.

“Well, I did, you know,” she said.

“And extremely naughty you were. Did your father know that you had asked them?”

“I never told Dad; I – I forgot.”

“Then you, a little girl of twelve years old, took it on you to ask a party of wild, disreputable, untrained children to this house without either his leave or mine!”

“Please, Miss Fleet,” said Phyllis, who had a very quick temper when roused, “they are not disreputable and they are not wild.”

“I repeat what I have said – disreputable, untrained children. I will have none of it.”

“You cannot prevent it now – you daren’t.”

“Oh, we will see. Take this page of Child’s Guide and learn it carefully. I will be back in a few minutes.”

Miss Fleet went out of the room. Phyllis looked after her until the door was closed; then she gave a wild, sharp scream, and rushing to the window, looked out. From there she had a view of the stables, and presently she saw one of the grooms get on her own special pony, Bob, and gallop off. The groom carried a note in his hand.

“What are you doing, David?” shrieked Phyllis from the schoolroom window.