“I am a very happy girl,” said Phyllis in the most contented voice in the world. “Please don’t scold me, Miss Fleet; but I may as well say at once that I don’t greatly care whether you are angry or not.”
“Oh, don’t you?” said Miss Fleet. “Do you suppose I am going to put up with such a very disobedient little girl?” Her voice was stern. She did not often scold Phyllis, for Phyllis, as a rule, was too good to be reprimanded. She followed her now to her pleasant bedroom. There Nurse was waiting to pet the little girl and make her presentable for dinner.
Miss Fleet looked into the room and said, “Here she is, Nurse, and I am extremely angry with her;” and then the governess closed the door and walked away.
Phyllis gazed at Nurse, her eyes brimful of laughter. Then she ran up to the old woman and said ecstatically —
“Oh! I am so happy, and I don’t care a bit – not a bit – for what old cross-patch says.”
“My dear Miss Phyllis,” said Nurse, “you ought not to speak like that of your governess.”
“Well,” cried Phyllis, “she is cross-patch.”
“I never heard you say that sort of thing before.”
“I learnt it from the Rectory children. Oh, they are so nice – so very nice! I was with them all the afternoon. I am going again to-morrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and every day – every single day. Now, please, Nurse, help me to get tidy for dinner.”
Nurse, who in her heart of hearts felt that Phyllis could do no wrong, assisted with right good-will to remove the mud-bespattered habit, and to get the little girl into her evening-frock. The Squire was immensely fond and proud of his little daughter, and she always dined in the evening with Miss Fleet and her father. Miss Fleet came downstairs first to the drawing-room.
“Where is Phyllis?” said the Squire.
“I am sorry to tell you, Mr Harringay, that Phyllis has been rather naughty. She has been out without leave, and came home just now in a disgraceful mess.”
“The young monkey,” said the Squire, laughing. “I saw her; she rode past the ‘Blue Dragon,’ a herd of children following her. I never was so amazed in my life; but she did look handsome and as if she were enjoying herself. I was told that the children belonged to the Rectory.”
“I don’t care whom they belong to,” said Miss Fleet. “They are very naughty children, and badly behaved; and if Phyllis has much to do with them she will get just as rough and wild herself.”
“Bless her! she is perfect whatever happens,” said the Squire energetically.
“Mr Harringay,” said the governess, “may I ask you a question?”
“My dear Miss Fleet, certainly. You know that I have the highest opinion of you.”
“Have I the charge of Phyllis or have I not?”
“Bless me, bless me!” said the Squire, in some agitation, “of course you have the charge of her.”
“Then that is all right; and she has got to obey me, has she not?”
“Of course, my good creature, of course.” Just then Phyllis danced into the room. She looked very pretty in her evening-frock, and her happy afternoon had brought a red colour into her cheeks and a glow of happiness into her grey eyes.
The trio went into the dining-room, and Phyllis amused her father during dinner with accounts of Rosie and Susie and the two boys.
“I like the country,” she said to her father; “I am glad we have come to live at the Hall; I am glad about everything. I am very, very happy to-night.”
The Squire kissed her and petted her, and it was not until she was just going to bed that he broke a piece of news to her which she scarcely appreciated.
“My dear, it is good-bye as well as good-night.”
“Good-bye, Father? Why?” asked Phyllis.
“Because I have to go to town to-morrow early, long before you are awake, my little daughter, and I shall probably not return to the Hall for quite a fortnight. But as you are so happy and have found friends, why, it does not matter so much, does it?”
“But I shall miss you,” said Phyllis, little guessing how very, very much she was to regret the Squire’s absence.
“I will write to you, pet, almost every day if I can; and if there is anything you fancy from town, you have but to say the word.”
“I will write and tell you, Father. Are you prepared to give me quite big, big things if I want them?”
“I expect I am. You are my only child, and my pockets are pretty well lined.”
“But big, big things for other people?” repeated Phyllis in an emphatic whisper.
“Come, Phyllis, it is time for bed,” said Miss Fleet.
Phyllis gave her father another hug. Her eyes looked into his, and his eyes looked into hers, and there was no doubt that the Squire and his little daughter thoroughly understood each other. Then she danced away from him, and took her governess’s hand and left the room.
“Miss Fleet manages her well,” thought the Squire. “She is a very good woman, is very trustworthy and reliable, and the dear little thing wants a bit of discipline. Nothing will induce me to send Phyllis to school. I have the greatest confidence in Miss Fleet. I wish I hadn’t to leave the child just now, but she is all right with the governess and Nurse – oh, and yes, there are the Rectory children; they see a lot of her, and she won’t miss me, not a bit.”
So the Squire went happily to bed and slept soundly, and went off at an early hour the following morning, kissing his hand as he did so in the direction of Phyllis’s window.
Chapter Three
When Phyllis awoke the next morning she had the pleasureable sensation down deep in her heart that something very agreeable was about to happen. For a time she lay still, hugging the pleasant knowledge to herself. Then she sat up in bed with a laugh. Nurse had come into the room with Phyllis’s bath, and was pouring the hot water out for her and preparing to help her to dress.
“Well, Miss,” she said, “what is the matter?”
“Oh Nursey! those nice children from the Rectory are coming over to-day, and I mean to give them such a jolly time. The whole four are coming, and we mean to have hide-and-seek in the grounds and in the house. We’ll be a bit wild and we’ll be a bit noisy, but you don’t mind, do you, Nursey?”
“No, darling,” replied Nurse, “I don’t mind; I am glad you have something to cheer you now that the Squire has gone.”
“Oh, I forgot that!” said Phyllis. “I shall miss my darling father, but I am all the more glad that the Rectory children are coming.”
Phyllis rose in high spirits, and presently she and Miss Fleet met in the schoolroom.
In the Squire’s absence they were to have their meals in the schoolroom, and the table was laid now and placed in the cheerful bay-window, and the schoolroom maid was bringing in coffee, toast, and other good things for breakfast.
“I am hungry,” said Phyllis. – “Good-morning, Miss Fleet.”
“Good-morning, my dear,” said Miss Fleet. “Take your seat quietly, please – not quite so noisily. Shall I give you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please,” said Phyllis.
As a rule she rather resented Miss Fleet’s remarks, but she was in such good spirits to-day that she determined, as she expressed it, to be extra well-behaved.
“I have been thinking, Phyllis,” said the governess as she slowly ate her own breakfast, “that this is an excellent opportunity for us to begin a more exhaustive routine of work.”
“Exhaustive