by the scruff of the neck.

"To hear you talk," said Irais, "no one would ever imagine that you
dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in your
life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is scruff?
I hope I have not got any on me." And she craned her neck before the
glass.

She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon
Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a
book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies--it was Miss Jones's last
public appearance, as I shall relate--and after working for the best
part of two days they were finished, and looked like lovely ladies
in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, holding up their skirts with
glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long description of them for a
chapter of her book which is headed Noel,--I saw that much, because she
left it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. They
were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said to be
natural to take to one's own countrymen, I am unable altogether to
sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection.

"I wonder what they talk about?" I said to Irais yesterday, when there
was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in
conversation with Miss Jones.

"Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think they
are clever, and then they talk rubbish."

"Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever."

"I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your
governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine
she must have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can't hear that
every day. What is the matter with her?"

"I don't think she feels quite as proper as she looks," I said
doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones's
expression.

"But that must be rather nice," said Irais. "It would be awful for her
if she felt exactly the same as she looks."

At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly,
and the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet,
leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying--

"Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon
themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be
terrible. Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have
continually to pose before their flock as such. As for governesses,