Josephine entered the room known as the library, which was the scene of her family life, and coming up to the table, paused with her hand upon it.
“Well, I have welcomed the junior staff. They have gone to their quarters, taking with them a word from me. I have done for them what I did for their seniors yesterday. I cannot bear the thought of these women, coming from some distant place, it may be, not meeting with any respect and understanding in their work and their lives.”
“You do not assume that we find the thought bearable?” said Gabriel.
“Can I be of any help to you, Josephine?” said Simon, in a manner of saying what should be said, whether or no with hope of result.
“No. Everything is on its foundation now. The class-rooms are arranged and assigned; the one thing was as much of a business as the other. The new basis of the accounts is settled. That took some delving into the deeps of one’s mind; but, as it hardly seemed advisable to add a chartered accountant to our staff, I delved until the result commended itself. The time-tables are organised, in so far as it is possible for human capacity to bring them to such a 64stage. The preliminary steps are behind; it is only the term that is ahead.”
The intensity of Josephine’s tone caused Simon to lift his eyes, and she continued in a different manner.
“The worst of it is, that another little piece of energy is behind too. Well, we can only go on until our store runs out.”
“I am glad you have come in while you have some left,” said Gabriel. “We should not expect to make a move towards our own refreshment. And pouring out tea would stress my position as companion.”
“As companion you need do no more,” said Josephine. “And I am very used to making any moves that are necessary.”
“The best companionship is known to rest upon difference,” said Simon, with an indulgent smile. “The impulse that has had its result in the school, as yet hardly repeats itself.”
“Impulse!” said his wife. “It takes something more than impulse, to set on foot a large, organic concern; to give it its life, to breathe its vitality into it every day, to keep from somewhere at its source, a hand on the pulsing current that looks to you for its force. Not much in that line would be done, if we trusted to mere impulse.”
“It would be safer to trust to every human quality we possessed,” said Gabriel.
“Yes, that is just about what we have to do. And the more we possess, the better.”
“It was not a considered word, Josephine,” said her husband.
“Now don’t get absorbed in discussion just as the kettle is boiling. I am housewife as well as head mistress, and laxity falls as hard on me in one sphere as in the other.”
“And I am master in logic and history,” said Simon.
“And be thankful that you have the work to do. What would any of us be, without our work?”65
“I should be a leisured man,” said Simon.
“I should be what I am,” said Gabriel.
“You are a boy, just through your boy’s training. But your uncle talks as if he carried the weight of the house, when his work would not keep the wolf from the door.”
Simon’s face relaxed into a resigned, but settled hopelessness.
“The wolf is always represented as at such close quarters,” said Gabriel. “Why may he not lurk at the outer gate?”
“He is not at any distance at all, thanks to the school that you both regard with such bare tolerance.”
“I admit he would be too much for me single-handed,” said Simon. “But I am grateful for myself for my privilege of a day’s work.”
“It is a foolish theory that a man should not give his life to teaching girls,” said Josephine. “A woman would not be ashamed of teaching boys; and the two things are just the same.”
“They may be said to be the opposite of each other,” said Simon. “But I am of your mind, my dear; I am not above teaching anyone.”
“We should be strange people, indeed, to be above that.”
“We should, in two ways,” said Simon.
“I am above teaching girls in the despicable way,” said Gabriel.
“You are a very young man,” said Josephine. “It would not be suitable for you or for them. But your opportunities would have been very different, if I had been above teaching them, or below it. The one, as your uncle says, was as likely as the other.”
“Don’t say it was all done to prepare for my future, the future that does not come to pass.”
“Are you at home, madam?” said the maid at the door.
“Well, I think we may say we are, Adela,” said Josephine. “I cannot see any reason why we are not.”66
“Adela means, are we ready for guests?” said Simon, with his faint frown.
“Well, I think we are. Here is a good fire, and a good tea, and everything governed by law and order. It seems to me rather an opportune moment for guests. The more, the merrier, I say for my part.”
Simon for his part said nothing, and Felix Bacon entered the room.
“Well, how are you?” said Josephine. “Have you come to see us professionally, or as a friend? I need not say how welcome you are in either character.”
“I have come professionally. Perhaps I am not any longer your friend. I am here because I heard you were seeing your staff to-day. I am the last person to presume on the past.”
“Will you have some tea with us, and then come with me to my study? Your colleagues have tea in their room upstairs, but you are rather late to join them. You have the run of the common room, when you are in the house. Some people separate the men and women in a school; I believe it is the usual thing; but I have never seen any reason for doing so myself.”
“It would be dreadful if you saw reasons, especially in a school for girls. I am surprised that the men and women have to be separated, and that it is the usual thing. I will do nothing out of my sphere; so I will come with you to your study. Am I the only newcomer this term?”
“There is Miss Keats, the new, young, classical mistress,” said Josephine, walking at his side to the door; “a very gifted and accomplished girl. You will be interested to meet her.”
“I have always wanted to meet someone really accomplished, to compare myself with. Do you sit alone in this study? I think I am glad I belong to a common room. It seems to be you, who really have to be separated.”67
“Yes. It works out like that,” said Josephine, looking for something in her desk. “Yes, here is your time-table. Your hours and classes are marked. I hope you will enjoy your work here, the more that I knew you as a friend before we came together as colleagues. That has not often happened to me.”
“I hope it does not give me an unfair advantage?”
“Now, you will know better than to talk about advantage, when you have known me as a head mistress a little longer.”
“I already know better. I am very uncomfortable at fancying that I might be singled out. How many of us are there, equal in the common room?”
“In the senior room, where you belong, Miss Munday, Miss Rosetti, Miss Luke, Mrs. Chattaway and Miss Keats; besides the visiting masters, who are there at times. You know them by sight, except Miss Keats. She is young to belong to that room, but is there by virtue of her work. Mrs. Chattaway is there by virtue of her age; her work is in the junior school. It might be uncongenial for her to be always with younger women.”
“Am I there by virtue of my age or my work? It would not be uncongenial to me to be with younger women.”
“Now I daresay it would not,” said Josephine, pointing at him with her pencil. “But I would have you know that there are other things here to command your attention.”
“But it would be more congenial to be with the older ones, though you may not believe it.”
“Yes, I believe it; I think I should have guessed it. You are in that room by virtue of your work. When that is the case, the question of age does not arise.”
“That is a good thing, as I do not confess to my age. I suppose Mrs. Chattaway does to hers. It shows how untrue it is, that women are less ready to admit their age than men.”68
“I do not know her exact age. I have found her very kind and charming as a friend, as I have all the members of my staff.”
“I did not mean to talk about Mrs. Chattaway’s exact age. I hope they none of them presume upon their friendship?”
“I trust that they deal with me fully as a friend. I hardly understand that phrase, ‘presume upon friendship’.”
“I quite understand it. Shall we have a gossip about your staff?”
“No!” said Josephine. “When you have known me a little longer, you will know that my mistresses, in their presence and in their absence, are safe with me. I hope I could say that of all my friends.”
“I hoped you could not. But it is interesting that they would not be safe, if we had the gossip. They must have treated you fully as a friend. I almost feel we have had it.”
“You will find that not much gossip is done here,” said Josephine, smiling as if in spite of herself.
“I suppose it hardly could be in a common room.”
“Either there or elsewhere.”
“And in the community of women! I am glad I am seeing life for myself, as all the theories about it are untrue. Now I see that you are dismissing me with a look. Of course you are one of those people whose glance is obeyed.”
Josephine gave him a bow from her desk, and when he had gone, returned to the library.
“Well, there is another person sent on his path with a word! I could hardly be blamed if my stock of apposite words gave out, with the demand upon it. Happily it seems to increase with need. Nothing would do for Felix, but that he should be initiated with due and official ceremony.”
“Do you think you will get on with him in his new character?” said Gabriel.69
“Well, if I do not, he will be the first person I have not got on with.”
“You have never dealt with anyone who has been a friend first.”
“Friend first, fellow-worker afterwards; fellow-worker first, friend afterwards! What is the difference?”
“The others may feel there is one.”
“Indeed they will not. I can set your mind at rest there.”
“Will the mistresses like him about in their common room? He will be there oftener than the other men.”
“Well, I should think they will. I find him very charming; and I do not see why they should not do the same. I make it a rule in making arrangements for people, to judge them by myself. It is the best, the simplest, and the friendliest thing.”
“Suppose you have to give him notice?” said Gabriel.
Simon laughed.
“Well, I have had, of course, to break my relation, professionally, with certain people. That is simply as it has had to be. But I have never terminated it in any other sense; they have always remained my friends. In one case a woman came back to me and was married from my house: I found she regarded it as her home. It was a good thing I did not realise that before, or I should have felt some scruples in parting with her. But now, with my trained judgement, I should not be mistaken.”
“It will be difficult to steer between our old and new relations,” said Gabriel.
“You will only have the old relation. And for your uncle and me, Felix will do his work in one capacity, and depend upon our friendship in the other. He is a gentleman.” Josephine moved her hand. “There should be no difficulty.”
“I seem to be a person not versed in the ways of gentlemen.” 70
“What you are, is a jealous boy. You want me to have no other friend but you. But I am very used to having streams of people pass before my eyes. Felix is only one of a group to me. I had to prepare him for that: I did not find him exactly in a state of preparation.”
Felix was presenting himself to his future companions.
“I have come to introduce myself. I daresay you all know me by sight. I think my face is one that you would remember.”
“Do you know us by sight?” said Helen. “Or are our faces less memorable?”
“Perhaps it is a sex difference,” said Miss Luke.
“It is men who generally look at women’s faces,” said Miss Munday.
There was a pause.
“I am a little taken aback,” said Felix. “I did not expect that your touch would be so much like my own. And I don’t think you are trying to put me at my ease. Did you know that I was a person who could not feel awkward?”
“Yes, I think we sensed it,” said Miss Luke.
“I am not surprised by your spying that. Mrs. Napier told me about your high level of charm.”
“That was surely a rash thing to say,” said Mrs. Chattaway.
“Perhaps it would not have occurred to Mr. Bacon, if he had not been warned,” said Miss Luke, joining in the amusement at this possibility.
“I rely simply on being my natural self,” said Miss Munday.
“Have you ever seen a more distinguished plainness than mine?” said Felix.
“No, certainly not,” said Mrs. Chattaway. “I do not mean that there is any plainness in question.”
“It is known to be a thing that is often forgotten,” said Felix.71
“I have seldom heard about plainness, without hearing too that it was forgotten,” said Helen. “There hardly seems any point in mentioning it.”
“Is this the first time you have done regular work, Mr. Bacon?” said Miss Luke.
“Do you not like to talk about my looks?”
“Yes, very much,” said Miss Luke, yielding to the situation.
“I thought you would. We cannot often agree that a person is plain, to his face.”
“Or that something makes us forget the plainness,” said Mrs. Chattaway, with a touch of archness.
“Oh, do you really think I am plain?”
“They were your own words, Mr. Bacon.”
“I had no idea that they would be anyone else’s. They never have been before.”
“You may not have started the idea before.”
“I never will again, for fear the same advantage is taken of it.”
“You will find it a change to be occupied every day, Mr. Bacon,” said Miss Luke, with a touch of firmness.
“I have heard that women are cruel. I cannot expect them to let bygones be bygones.”
“Surely there is nothing to be ashamed of in having the opportunity of a leisured life,” said Mrs. Chattaway.
“No, I really agree that it is a thing to be proud of.”
“So do I,” said Miss Rosetti. “But you betray what you think of our position.”
“I have always felt very chivalrously about it. But now we are all in it, we will not tolerate pity. I did not know before that pity really could not be tolerated.”
“What drove you—what led you to take up the position?” said Mrs. Chattaway.72
“Thank you for remembering in time about pity. My father makes me too small an allowance, but only small enough to lead and not drive me. And he could afford to make me a large one.”
“I am sure he could,” said Mrs. Chattaway.
“Do you expect us to think more of you for that, Mr. Bacon?” said Miss Luke.
“Yes, but not as much more as you fear. I am very sensitive to atmospheres.”
“Is this atmosphere different from others?” said Helen.
“No, very nearly the same. No one admires riches as much as he feels it natural to admire them.”
“He has always found out that they are not the one thing in the world,” said Helen. “What is that bell?”
“Oh, how many years is it since we said that?” said Miss Luke.
“What is the bell?” said Felix. “Not a knell, is it?”
“It is the knell of someone’s innocence of a working life,” said Miss Luke.
“No wonder you hesitated to talk openly about it.”
“It is the dressing-bell for the mistresses’ first supper,” said Miss Luke, with an atoning manner of full information.
“Then I have stayed to the last moment. I am not embarrassed by doing that. I do not recognise the politeness of leaving early. We ought always to seem as if we could not tear ourselves away. I really hardly can to-day, I have so enjoyed my first hour of work. And I am so sorry that I shall not see you all dressed.”
“A most charming man!” said Mrs. Chattaway, as the footsteps died away. “He really seemed as if the society in this room were the one thing he would choose; and that is the essence of good manners.”
“It must have been polite fiction?” said Miss Luke.73
“Well, he seemed too good to be true,” said Helen.
“It is a pity he did not see us dressed,” said Miss Munday.
“I believe in some schools the mistresses do not dress at night,” said Mrs. Chattaway.
“I know they do not,” said Miss Rosetti. “I have lived and not dressed in them.”
“It seems odd,” said Miss Luke, with a slightly puzzled frown.
“It is only a superficial difference,” said Mrs. Chattaway.
“Now is it?” said Miss Luke.
“I will put on my satin one evening early enough for Mr. Bacon to see me in it,” said Miss Munday, meeting without flinching the mirth caused by a happy view of her appearance at its best.
As Felix reached the Hall, Gabriel crossed it and went towards Josephine’s study.
“I bid you good-night with the respect I owe to a member of my employer’s family,” said Felix.
“I respond with the respect carefully paid by that member.”
“It is not true that people have real esteem for workers. I thought my view of work as degrading was original, but it is almost universal. People who think it not degrading are too proud of thinking it, for it to be their natural opinion.”
“How did you get on with the learned ladies upstairs?”
“I found I had a great deal in common with them; and that rather put me out. I thought I should be so different. I think perhaps I must have found my vocation.”
“It is the same as mine, then,” said Gabriel. “My elders don’t seem to know of another. It is time I departed to pursue it. And I find it is easy to get exhausted without doing any work.”
“I am only beginning to know about work. I am glad it is not that, that causes exhaustion. But will you not find it a refreshment to see me flitting through the house about my duties?” 74
“Oh, don’t apply any more emotional pressure. I shall faint beneath the heat and burden of the day.” Gabriel broke off as Josephine came from her room.
“Well, you have met your colleagues?” she said, giving a word in passing to Felix.
“Yes. I nearly outstayed my welcome. I left them barely time to dress.”
“Well, I daresay they like time for that,” said Josephine, and turned to her nephew, as though the attention at her disposal for Felix were spent.
“Well, lazybones, standing dreaming instead of bringing me those books! I haven’t the time to waste that you have. Where would you be without your man of the family?”
“I might be a man myself,” said Gabriel, using a voice not often heard from his lips.
“Why, what is this? What is it?” said Josephine, with instant grasp of the position, while Felix vanished, as if of previous intention, from the house. “What is this line you take? What have you had from me but kindness?”
“It is time I did something besides take kindness: it becomes a reproach and a burden. People are so conscious of what is taken, and so unconscious of what they take. I can’t be anything but a fund of easy companionship. Apart from anything else the life is too exhausting.”
“Oh, is it? Exhausting is hardly the word I should apply. You had better find some life that is less exhausting. That is the cure for that sort of mood.”
“I had better have found it months ago. I recognise the mistake.”
“Ah, your real self was not hidden for long,” said Josephine, in a tender, almost shaken tone. “And I saw it through the cloud. 75You may trust me not to take you at a disadvantage. You have a right to ask that from your best friend.”
“I must claim the right to my different moods, as other people have it. I can’t be simply an automaton of flattery. It is not a reasonable thing to ask, nor a possible thing to do.”
“An automaton of flattery! Well, I don’t recognise much sign of your being that in the last few minutes. Have your moods; I will not quarrel with them, as long as they are yours. It is your own self that I want.”
Josephine passed into the study, and Gabriel wandered about the hall, wearing a hunted look.