The Old Wives' Tale - Arnold Bennett [31]
She did not say this aloud. She in no way deviated from the scrupulous politeness of a hostess. There was nothing in even her tone to indicate that Mrs. John Baines was a personage. Yet it suddenly occurred to Miss Chetwynd that her pride in being the prospective sister-in-law of the Rev. Archibald Jones would be better for a while in her pocket. And she inquired after Mr. Baines. After this the conversation limped somewhat.
"I suppose you weren't surprised by my letter?" said Mrs. Baines.
"I was and I wasn't," answered Miss Chetwynd, in her professional manner and not her manner of a prospective sister-in-law. "Of course I am naturally sorry to lose two such good pupils, but we can't keep our pupils for ever." She smiled; she was not without fortitude—it is easier to lose pupils than to replace them. "Still"—a pause—"what you say of Sophia is perfectly true, perfectly. She is quite as advanced as Constance. Still"—another pause and a more rapid enunciation—"Sophia is by no means an ordinary girl."
"I hope she hasn't been a very great trouble to you?"
"Oh NO!" exclaimed Miss Chetwynd. "Sophia and I have got on very well together. I have always tried to appeal to her reason. I have never FORCED her … Now, with some girls … In some ways I look on Sophia as the most remarkable girl—not pupil—but the most remarkable—what shall I say?—individuality, that I have ever met with." And her demeanour added, "And, mind you, this is something—from me!"
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Baines. She told herself, "I am not your common foolish parent. I see my children impartially. I am incapable of being flattered concerning them."
Nevertheless she was flattered, and the thought shaped itself that really Sophia was no ordinary girl.
"I suppose she has talked to you about becoming a teacher?" asked Miss
Chetwynd, taking a morsel of the unparalleled jam.
She held the spoon with her thumb and three fingers. Her fourth finger, in matters of honest labour, would never associate with the other three; delicately curved, it always drew proudly away from them.
"Has she mentioned that to you?" Mrs. Baines demanded, startled.
"Oh yes!" said Miss Chetwynd. "Several times. Sophia is a very secretive girl, very—but I think I may say I have always had her confidence. There have been times when Sophia and I have been very near each other. Elizabeth was much struck with her. Indeed, I may tell you that in one of her last letters to me she spoke of Sophia and said she had mentioned her to Mr. Jones, and Mr. Jones remembered her quite well."
Impossible for even a wise, uncommon parent not to be affected by such an announcement!
"I dare say your sister will give up her school now," observed Mrs.
Baines, to divert attention from her self-consciousness.
"Oh NO!" And this time Mrs. Baines had genuinely shocked Miss Chetwynd.
"Nothing would induce Elizabeth to give up the cause of education.
Archibald takes the keenest interest in the school. Oh no! Not for
worlds!"
"THEN YOU THINK SOPHIA WOULD MAKE A GOOD TEACHER?" asked Mrs. Baines with apparent inconsequence, and with a smile. But the words marked an epoch in her mind. All was over.
"I think she is very much set on it and—"
"That wouldn't affect her father—or me," said Mrs. Baines quickly.
"Certainly not! I merely say that she is very much set on it. Yes, she would, at any rate, make a teacher far superior to the average." ("That girl has got the better of her mother without me!" she reflected.) "Ah! Here is dear Constance!"
Constance, tempted beyond her strength by the sounds of the visit and the colloquy, had slipped into the room.
"I've left both doors open, mother," she excused herself for quitting her father, and kissed Miss Chetwynd.
She blushed, but she blushed happily, and really made a most creditable debut as a young lady. Her mother rewarded her by taking her into the conversation. And history was soon made.
So Sophia was apprenticed to Miss Aline Chetwynd. Mrs. Baines bore herself greatly. It was Miss Chetwynd who had urged, and her respect for Miss Chetwynd