Two Worlds and Their Ways (7 page)

“A school may not be any better for being so full,” said Sir Roderick.

“But when it is better, I suppose it is full,” said Juliet.

“It seems that my line was the right one,” said Lesbia, with a smile.

“So Clemence can go to you, if we wish to send her?” said Sir Roderick.

“No, seriously, Roderick, that question must wait.”

“Aunt Lesbia spoke, as she said, seriously,” said Oliver.

“What made you decide to be a schoolmaster, Lucius?” said Sir Roderick, keeping his tone neutral.

“I thought the work was of use and interest, and perhaps I had not much choice.”

“What a beautiful answer!” said his wife. “So open and uncringing. Simple, too, which is always creditable.”

“Yes, simplicity is to the good,” said Lesbia, half to herself, “if there is no reason to dispense with it.”

“We do not often avoid it,” said Oliver. “Complexity is so much more difficult.”

“That is what I should have thought,” said Juliet, “if I dared to think it. But I am never sure of myself.”

“Is no one going to ask me why I chose the profession?” said Lesbia.

“No, my dear,” said Mr. Firebrace. “A woman is a governess or nothing. But it is natural to ask to man.”

“Oliver, must you play the piano just while we are talking?” said Maria.

“Yes, I must, Maria. The need is upon me. And you have been talking more easily for my subdued and sensitive accompaniment.”

“I wish I had your services for a term,” said Lucius. “My music master is to have a rest, and it is difficult to get a substitute.”

“Well, why not make the boy a governess with the rest of you?” said Mr. Firebrace. “Why should we have exceptions in the family?”

“I should like to be one for a term,” said Oliver. “I should like to see the world of school from a different angle and know why it is called a world. And to know if schoolmasters do what they are supposed to; destroy each other in imagination, and treat boys with hysterical cruelty, and ruin them by romantic devotion, and lose heart and hope and become machines. Because it does not sound so very like machines. And I should like Grandpa to learn what it is to be without me. Some little thing that he takes for granted might return to him and loom larger than any great one. And Father would learn that he does not really want to be without his elder son. Maria would learn nothing, as she does want to be without me.”

“A governess is born, not made,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Well, may we regard it as settled?” said Lucius.

“Yes, sir. I must call you that now, instead of ‘Uncle Lucius', or the masters would laugh at me. Or is it only the boys? There is so much I want to know.”

“Is this all nonsense, or is it serious?” said Maria.

“It is serious on my side,” said Lucius.

“It is both one thing and the other,” said Mr. Firebrace, looking from Lucius to his grandson. “But I think it is to be carried out.”

“Well, perhaps it would be good for Sefton to have a
grown-up brother at the school,” said Maria. “It might give him a background.”

“You are given a real reason for your going, Oliver,” said Sir Roderick.

“It would make no difference,” said Lucius, “or anyhow would be no advantage. Their paths would not cross, and the boys would think no more of Sefton. They have little respect for labour held to be worthy of its hire.”

“Of course boys are the most conventional of creatures,” said Juliet, “though I never quite know how it was discovered. They do not eschew breaches of convention. When any trouble arises, it is generally about those.”

“I suppose some breaches of convention are conventional,” said Sir Roderick.

“So, my boy, they are making a governess of you between them,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Yes, I should have thought someone else would have supposed that,” said Lesbia.

“Shall we send for the children, and ask them what they think?” said Maria.

“We will tell them what has been decided,” said her husband. “We will not ask them for opinions that are to be disregarded, about their own future.”

“Yes, you are right, Roderick,” said Lesbia. “To have one's fate in the hands of other people is one of the hard features of childhood and merits sympathy. I find that is one of the demands of my life, to give sympathy of the right kind and degree; and I hope the power has grown with exercise. And they have not tried the new conditions. We should wait for their judgement until they have.”

“They may as well come down,” said Maria. “We should all like to see them, or anyhow Roderick and I would.”

“There is only one thing for us to say, and so, of course, it goes without saying,” said Lesbia.

“It is fortunate that things that go without saying, are such harmless things,” said Juliet. “If they were not, we
should live in danger, as they always seem to be said.”

“Aldom, ask Miss Clemence and Master Sefton to come downstairs,” said Maria.

“Yes, my lady. Is Miss Petticott to come too?”

“We need hardly trespass on Miss Petticoat's time,” said Sir Roderick, with a hint of preferring his own choice of phrase.

“Now I should like to see Miss Petticott,” said Lesbia. “I am interested in all forms of education, and hers is different from mine. And I should like the present question to be discussed before her. It is what I should choose in her place, and in such matters we are safe in judging other people by ourselves.”

“Miss Petticott too, my lady? Yes, my lady,” said Aldom, looking at Maria and going to the door.

“I think Aldom takes the conventional view of the teaching profession,” said Lesbia with a laugh.

“He may see the different position of someone who teaches in the house,” said Sir Roderick.

“Now why is it different?” said Lesbia. “I fail to see any difference. I recognise none. I see the same aims, the same interests, the same hopes in both that branch of the calling and mine.”

“He may see a different income and a different degree of independence.”

“I hope he does not see our income,” said Juliet. “I never turn my eyes on it. It is shocking to get so much out of the charge and training and food—yes, food—of helpless boys. We can hardly look for people's respect. And nothing ought to have respect, that has so much besides.”

“You have not the same reason for discomfort, Lesbia?” said Sir Roderick.

“No, I can hold my head high. And I think on the whole I prefer it in that way. On the basis of a simple and fair return for what it is in my power to give. I give it and ask but the means to live, and I think that makes for true content.”

“My content is the other kind, and I do like it better,” said her sister. “But I have the grace to feel ashamed.”

“Why do you call it grace?” said Oliver. “Things that are mixed up with shame ought to have some other name, and really have it.”

“How do you do, Miss Petticott?” said Lesbia, rising at the opening of the door, on which she had kept her eyes. “I am looking forward to my talk with you. You and I are to have something in common——” She broke off as she encountered the children and realised one difference in Miss Petticott's branch of the calling, a vagueness in the matter of precedence.

“How do you do, Miss Petticott?” she said again, sending her eyes past the children as a relief to the check. “I have been looking forward to my talk with you. You and I are to have something in common, a pupil, in addition to the other things common to us both. You hold the superior position with regard to her; you have laid the foundations; my task is to add the superstructure, a humbler part. I hope you will give me your help, a generous office, as I have given you none.”

“Indeed, Miss Firebrace, you put things very kindly. I will do anything I can. I am sorry to lose Clemence, but glad for her to have any advantages that should be hers. And I shall have her in the holidays. I must think of that.”

“Yes, yes, the holidays,” said Lesbia, in her soft tones. “They have their significance in the educational round. I often wish I had more to do with the holidays. They are not the least of the formative influences. They admit the use of initiative, of free will. They cannot be.”

“Does not Miss Petticott have any?” said Oliver.

“Well, Mr. Shelley, holidays are short when the life involves the sharing of a home. And I shall soon have a change of work, and that is known to be a rest.”

“It is a good thing it is known,” said Juliet. “Or how should we find it out?”

“A change of work!” said Lesbia. “That too will have
its effect on the guidance when it comes into force again. The wider the experience, the wider the survey. That is why I keep my holidays for my own interests. I feel I am not the narrower for them.”

“Anything seems to do for education,” said Juliet. “It seems rather pointless to keep a school for the purpose.”

“Do you teach in your school, Juliet?” said Sir Roderick.

“No, not now. I used to, but it was not a success.”

“I should have thought the boys would like you.”

“They did. They liked me too much. And I could not bear to lose their affection. That was the whole thing.”

“Could you not teach them without losing it?”

“No, I could not be harsh with them.”

“Can nothing be done without harshness?”

“No, everything is done by it.”

“Are there no other methods?”

“Yes, I believe so, but no successful ones.”

“I thought it was not allowed in these days.”

“It is always the things that are not allowed, that achieve results. No notice is taken of things that do nothing.”

“I suppose it creeps in in spite of the theories. And small doses have more effect.”

“Well, they have some effect,” said Juliet.

“How do you do, Clemence? How do you do, Sefton?” said Lesbia, turning as if on a second thought. “I hope you can forgive this invasion of your home.”

“I did not greet them, as you did not,” said Juliet, “I thought it might be making advances to possible pupils. But I am glad you have done it. I was wondering how things were to be.”

“I had forgotten the problematic future relation at the moment,” said Lesbia, with a smile. “If I have lost my dignity, I must do my best to recover it.”

“If you had greeted them when they came in, you would have kept it,” said Oliver.

Sir Roderick gave a glance almost of approval at his son.

“What do you think of the relative claims of home and
school?” said Juliet to the children. “Well, somebody has to say it. And I am used to taking the thankless part. It leaves Lucius aloof for the good of the school. I suppose we should be ruined if he said that sort of thing.”

“I think the first things would always come first,” said Clemence.

“There does not seem much good in a home, if you have to leave it,” said her brother.

“I suppose there is no help for it, for a boy,” said Lesbia, resting her eyes on them in acceptance of their point of view. “In Clemence's case there may be more freedom of choice. She can depend upon Miss Petticott in solitude, if it is preferred. And if Miss Petticott will accept the responsibility.”

“She would be lonely by herself,” said Maria.

“The trap was right in your path,” said her husband.

“No, Roderick, I do not set traps,” said Lesbia. “Maria presumably meant what she said, and there is truth in it. Or do you say there is not?”

“I want both my children in their home. Sefton can go on with his tutor until his time for a public school. They have a right to each other's companionship, and a girl has a right to her father's roof.”

“Well, that is one side of things,” said Lesbia, on a more cordial note. “So let us leave it at that. And I shall be interested in the result of the experiment. For that it must be said to be. Everything is grist to my mill, as I have said, in the sphere of preparation for life.”

“Did you know that your brother was to be a governess with the rest of them?” said Mr. Firebrace to the children.

“You do not address the children of your own accord more than twice a year,” said Maria.

“Perhaps that would be about the number of times.”

“How do you mean, Grandpa?” said Clemence.

“Music mistress at his uncle's school.”

“Music master,” said Sefton.

“No, I meant what I said, my boy.”

“Then will he be there when I am there?”

“Yes, I thought you would be glad to hear that,” said Maria. “It will make a background for you. There will be someone to appeal to, if anything goes wrong.”

“Then he will have to acknowledge the relationship,” said Oliver.

“And why should he not do that?”

“Well, I shall have to play the piano for the hymn at prayers.”

“How did you know?” said Juliet. “I am so relieved. I was wondering if Lucius would dare to tell you, or if it would devolve upon me.”

“Why should I mind his playing?” said Sefton. “He plays at home.”

“There is no reason to mind,” said Maria.

“You little know what you say,” said her stepson.

“I do not suppose he will give me any reasons when he comes home.”

“No, I do not suppose he will.”

“What is all this mystery?” said Maria, in an exasperated manner. “Why should not school be an open and natural life, like any other?”

“Like what other?” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Do not try to be suggestive, Grandpa. It is not a thing you can do. I could give Maria some reasons, and I shall know some more when I return. And some of the life is natural. Perhaps that is why it cannot be open. It could not be both.”

“I hate to feel there is so much that does not go into words,” said his stepmother.