Hilary.
"It's just to teach them the ordinary things," said little Miss
Phyllis.
"What are the ordinary things?" I ventured to ask.
"What all girls are taught, of course, Mr. Carter," said Mrs.
Hilary. "I'll write about it at once." And she looked at me as
if she thought that I might be about to go.
"It is a comprehensive curriculum," I remarked, crossing my legs,
"if one may judge from the results. How old are your younger
sisters, Miss Phyllis?"
"Fourteen and sixteen," she answered.
"It is a pity," said I, "that this didn't happen a little while
back. I knew a governess who would have suited the place to a
t.'"
Mrs. Hilary smiled scornfully.
"We used to meet--" I continued.
"Who used to meet?" asked Miss Phyllis.
"The governess and myself, to be sure," said I, "under the old
apple tree in the garden at the back of the house."
"What house, Mr. Carter?"
"My father's house, of course, Miss Phyllis. And--"
"Oh, but that must be ages ago!" cried she.
Mrs. Hilary rose, cast one glance at me, and turned to the
writing table. Her pen began to scratch almost immediately.
"And under the apple tree," I pursued, "we had many pleasant
conversations."
"What about?" asked Miss Phyllis.
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