room.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Hubbard, drawing a deep breath. “Why in the world I ever took this job on!”
Valèrie, who was the only person left, grinned in a friendly fashion.
“Don't worry, Ma,” she said. “It's a good thing it's all come out! Everyone was getting on the jumpy side.”
“I must say I was very surprised.”
“That it turned out to be Celia?”
“Yes. Weren't you?”
Valèrie said in a rather absent voice,
“Rather obvious, really, I should have thought.”
“Have you been thinking so all along?”
“Well, one or two things made me wonder. At any rate she's got Colin where she wants him.”
“Yes, I can't help feeling that it's wrong.”
“You can't get a man with a gun,” Valèrie laughed. “But a spot of kleptomania does the trick! Don't worry, Mum. And for God's sake make Celia give Geneviève back her compact, otherwise we shall never have any peace at meals.”
Mrs. Hubbard said with a sigh,
“Nigel has cracked his saucer and the marmalade pot is broken.”
“Hell of a morning, isn't it?” said Valèrie.
She went out. Mrs. Hubbard heard her voice in the hall saying cheerfully,
“Good morning, Celia. The coast's clear. All is known and all is going to be forgiven - by order of Pious Jean. As for Colin, he's been roaring like a lion on your behalf.”
Celia came into the dining room. Her eyes were reddened with crying.
“Oh, Mrs. Hubbard.”
“You're very late, Celia. The coffee's cold and there's not much left to eat.”
“I didn't want to meet the others.”
“So I gather. But you've got to meet them sooner or later.”
“Oh, yes, I know. But I thought - by this evening it would be easier. And of course I shan't stop on here. I'll go at the end of the week.”
Mrs. Hubbard frowned.
“I don't think there's any need for that. You must expect a little unpleasantness - that's only fair - but they're generous minded young people on the whole. Of course you'll have to make reparation as far as possible -”
Celia interrupted her eagerly.
“Oh yes. I've got my cheque book here. That's one of the things I wanted to say to you.” She looked down. She was holding a cheque book and an envelope in her hand. “I'd written to you in case you weren't about when I got down, to say how sorry I was and I meant to put in a cheque, so that you could square up with people - but my pen ran out of ink.”
“We'll have to make a list.”
“I have - as far as possible. But I don't know whether to try and buy new things or just to give the money.”
“I'll think it over. It's difficult to say offhand.”
“Oh, but do let me write you a cheque now. I'd feel so much better.”
About to say uncompromisingly “Really? And why should you be allowed to make yourself feel better?” Mrs. Hubbard reflected that since the students were always short of ready cash, the whole affair would be more easily settled that way. It would also placate Geneviève who otherwise might make trouble with Mrs. Nicoletis (there would be trouble enough there anyway.)
“All right,” she said. She ran her eye down the list of objects. “It's difficult to say how much offhand -” Celia said eagerly, “Let me give you a cheque for what you think roughly and then you find out from people and I can take some back or give you more.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Hubbard tentatively mentioned a sum which gave, she considered, ample margin, and Celia agreed at once. She opened the cheque book.
“Oh bother my pen.” She went over to the shelves where odds and ends were kept belonging to various students. “There doesn't seem to be any ink here except Nigel's awful green. Oh, I'll use that. Nigel won't mind, I must remember to get a new bottle of ink when I go out.”
She filled the pen and came back and wrote out the cheque.
Giving it to Mrs. Hubbard, she glanced at her watch.
“I shall be late. I'd better not stop for breakfast.”
“Now you'd better have something, Celia - even if it's
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Hubbard, drawing a deep breath. “Why in the world I ever took this job on!”
Valèrie, who was the only person left, grinned in a friendly fashion.
“Don't worry, Ma,” she said. “It's a good thing it's all come out! Everyone was getting on the jumpy side.”
“I must say I was very surprised.”
“That it turned out to be Celia?”
“Yes. Weren't you?”
Valèrie said in a rather absent voice,
“Rather obvious, really, I should have thought.”
“Have you been thinking so all along?”
“Well, one or two things made me wonder. At any rate she's got Colin where she wants him.”
“Yes, I can't help feeling that it's wrong.”
“You can't get a man with a gun,” Valèrie laughed. “But a spot of kleptomania does the trick! Don't worry, Mum. And for God's sake make Celia give Geneviève back her compact, otherwise we shall never have any peace at meals.”
Mrs. Hubbard said with a sigh,
“Nigel has cracked his saucer and the marmalade pot is broken.”
“Hell of a morning, isn't it?” said Valèrie.
She went out. Mrs. Hubbard heard her voice in the hall saying cheerfully,
“Good morning, Celia. The coast's clear. All is known and all is going to be forgiven - by order of Pious Jean. As for Colin, he's been roaring like a lion on your behalf.”
Celia came into the dining room. Her eyes were reddened with crying.
“Oh, Mrs. Hubbard.”
“You're very late, Celia. The coffee's cold and there's not much left to eat.”
“I didn't want to meet the others.”
“So I gather. But you've got to meet them sooner or later.”
“Oh, yes, I know. But I thought - by this evening it would be easier. And of course I shan't stop on here. I'll go at the end of the week.”
Mrs. Hubbard frowned.
“I don't think there's any need for that. You must expect a little unpleasantness - that's only fair - but they're generous minded young people on the whole. Of course you'll have to make reparation as far as possible -”
Celia interrupted her eagerly.
“Oh yes. I've got my cheque book here. That's one of the things I wanted to say to you.” She looked down. She was holding a cheque book and an envelope in her hand. “I'd written to you in case you weren't about when I got down, to say how sorry I was and I meant to put in a cheque, so that you could square up with people - but my pen ran out of ink.”
“We'll have to make a list.”
“I have - as far as possible. But I don't know whether to try and buy new things or just to give the money.”
“I'll think it over. It's difficult to say offhand.”
“Oh, but do let me write you a cheque now. I'd feel so much better.”
About to say uncompromisingly “Really? And why should you be allowed to make yourself feel better?” Mrs. Hubbard reflected that since the students were always short of ready cash, the whole affair would be more easily settled that way. It would also placate Geneviève who otherwise might make trouble with Mrs. Nicoletis (there would be trouble enough there anyway.)
“All right,” she said. She ran her eye down the list of objects. “It's difficult to say how much offhand -” Celia said eagerly, “Let me give you a cheque for what you think roughly and then you find out from people and I can take some back or give you more.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Hubbard tentatively mentioned a sum which gave, she considered, ample margin, and Celia agreed at once. She opened the cheque book.
“Oh bother my pen.” She went over to the shelves where odds and ends were kept belonging to various students. “There doesn't seem to be any ink here except Nigel's awful green. Oh, I'll use that. Nigel won't mind, I must remember to get a new bottle of ink when I go out.”
She filled the pen and came back and wrote out the cheque.
Giving it to Mrs. Hubbard, she glanced at her watch.
“I shall be late. I'd better not stop for breakfast.”
“Now you'd better have something, Celia - even if it's
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