She was a little woman, all skin and bone, with dried withered cheeks,
a large brown nose and protruding ears. Her face had formed severe lines
in self-defence against her brother, but her eyes were mild, and when
she smiled her mouth was rather pleasantly pathetic.

"Oh, she'll never do," thought Mrs. Cole, as she looked at her dripping
in the hall.

"I can't think how I forgot it," said the poor lady, her mind fixed upon
her umbrella. "They said that perhaps they would find it for me, but
there was a man in my carriage, I remember, who will most certainly have
taken it--and it was a nice one with a silver handle."

"Never mind," said Mrs. Cole cheerfully, "I'm sure they'll find it. You
must come up to the nursery--or the schoolroom I suppose we must call
it now; there's a lovely fire there, and we'll both have tea with
the children to-day, so as to feel at home, all of us, as quickly as
possible."

What Miss Jones wanted was to lie down on a bed in a dark room and try
and conquer her neuralgia. The thought of a lighted nursery filled her
with dismay. However, first impressions are so important. She pulled
herself together.

The children had heard the arrival; they waited in a bunch by the fire,
their eyes partly fixed on the door, partly on the strawberry jam that
they were allowed to-day as a treat in the new governess's honour.
Hamlet, his eyes and ears also upon the door, expecting perhaps a rat,
perhaps Aunt Amy, sat in front of the group, its bodyguard.

"She's in the hall," said Helen, "and now Mother's saying: 'Do take off
your things. You must be wet,' and now she's saying: 'You'll like to see
the children, I expect,' and now--"

There they were, standing in the doorway, Mrs. Cole and Miss Jones.
There followed a dismal pause. The children had not expected anyone so
old and so ugly as Miss Jones. Hamlet did not bark--nothing occurred.

At last Mrs. Cole said: "Now, children, come and say, 'How do you do?'
to Miss Jones. This is Helen, our eldest--this Mary--and this Jeremy."

Miss Jones did a dreadful thing. In her eagerness to be pleasant and
friendly she kissed the girls, and then, before anyone could stop her,
kissed Jeremy. He took it like a man, never turning his head nor wiping
his mouth with his hand afterwards, but she might have seen in his eyes,
had she looked, what he felt about it.

She said: "I hope we shall be happy together, dears."

The children said nothing, and presently they all