Miss Kate, at the other end of the room,
had prevailed on Uncle Harry (as she called him) to play a game at toy
ninepins. Or perhaps he had prevailed on her: anything to keep her
tolerably quiet. She was in her teens now, but the older she grew the
more troublesome she became; and she was remarkably small and
childish-looking, so that strangers took her to be several years younger
than she really was.
"This must be your model governess arriving, Aunt Emma," exclaimed Mrs.
Hamlyn, as the fly came up the drive.
"I hope it is," said Mrs. Carradyne; and they all looked out. "Oh, yes,
that's an Evesham fly--and a ramshackle thing it appears."
"I wonder you did not send the carriage to Evesham for her, mother,"
remarked Harry, picking up some of the ninepins which Miss Kate had
swept off the table with her hand.
Mrs. Hamlyn turned round in a blaze of anger. "Send the carriage to
Evesham for the governess! What absurd thing will you say next, Harry?"
The young man laughed in good humour. "Does it offend one of your
prejudices, Eliza?--a thousand pardons, then. But really, nonsense
apart, I can't see why the carriage should not have gone for her.
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