I knew how the times were changing, and I was weak enough to be afraid I might do you an injustice.  I did give you the chance of making friends among better people than your father.  Didn’t I use to talk to you about your school friends, and encourage you when they seemed of the right kind?  And now you tell me that they don’t care for your society because you live in a decent, unpretending way.  I should think you’re better without such friends.’

Nancy reflected, seemed about to prolong the argument, but spoke at length in another voice.

‘Well, I will say good-night, father.’

It was not usual for them to see each other after dinner, so that a good-night could seldom be exchanged.  The girl, drawing away, expected a response; she saw her father nod, but he said nothing.

‘Good-night, father,’ she repeated from a distance.

‘Good-night, Nancy, good-night,’ came in impatient reply.

CHAPTER 6

On Tuesday afternoon, when, beneath a cloudless sky, the great London highways reeked and roared in celebration of Jubilee, Nancy and her friend Miss.  Morgan walked up Grove Lane to Champion Hill.  Here and there a house had decked itself with colours of loyalty; otherwise the Lane was as quiet as usual.

Champion Hill is a gravel byway, overhung with trees; large houses and spacious gardens on either hand.  Here the heat of the sun was tempered.  A carriage rolled softly along; a nurse with well-dressed children loitered in the shade.  One might have imagined it a country road, so profound the stillness and so leafy the prospect.

A year ago, Jessica Morgan had obtained a three months’ engagement as governess to two little girls, who were sent under her care to the house of their grandmother at Teignmouth.  Their father, Mr Vawdrey of Champion Hill, had recently lost his wife through an illness contracted at a horse-race, where the lady sat in wind and rain for some hours.  The children knew little of what is learnt from books, but were surprisingly well informed on matters of which they ought to have known nothing; they talked of theatres and race-courses, of ‘the new murderer’ at Tussaud’s, of police-news, of notorious spendthrifts and demi-reps; discussed their grown-up acquaintances with precocious understanding, and repeated scandalous insinuations which could have no meaning for them.  Jessica was supposed to teach them for two hours daily; she found it an impossibility.  Nevertheless a liking grew up between her and her charges, and, save by their refusal to study, the children gave her no trouble; they were abundantly good-natured, they laughed and sported all day long, and did their best to put life into the pale, overworked governess.