Halcyone had not meant to tell her aunts anything about Cheiron—­this new-found joy—­but she reasoned after she heard of Mademoiselle’s non-return that the knowledge that she would have some instructor might have weight with those in charge of her.  It was worth risking at all events.

Miss La Sarthe adjusted a gold pince-nez and looked at the little girl.

“How old are you, Halcyone?” she asked.

“I was twelve on the seventh of last October, Aunt Ginevra.”

“Twelve—­a young gentlewoman’s education is not complete at twelve years old, child—­although governesses in the house are not very pleasant, I admit”—­and Miss La Sarthe sighed.

“Oh, I know it isn’t!” said Halcyone, “but you see, I can speak French and German quite decently, and the other things surely I might learn myself in between the old gentleman’s teaching.”

“But what do you know of this—­this stranger?” demanded Miss La Sarthe.  “You allude to someone of whom neither your Aunt Roberta nor I have ever heard.”

“I met him to-day.  I went into the orchard as usual, and found the house was inhabited, and I saw him and he asked me in to tea.  He is a very old gentleman with a long white beard, and very, very clever.  His room is full of Greek books and we had a long talk, and he was very kind and said he would teach me to read them.”

This seemed to Halcyone to be sufficient in the way of credentials for anyone.

“I have heard from Hester,” Miss Roberta interposed timidly, “that the orchard house has been bought by an Oxford professor—­it sounds most respectable, does it not, sister?”

Miss La Sarthe looked stern: 

“More than thirty-five years ago, Roberta, I told you I disapproved of Hester’s chattering.  I cannot conceive personally, how you can converse with servants as you do.  Hester would not have dared to gossip to me!”

Poor Miss Roberta looked crushed.  She had often been chided on this point before.

Halcyone would like to have reminded her elder aunt that William, who was equally a servant, had announced some such news to her that afternoon; but she remained silent.  She must gain her point if she could, and to argue, she knew, was never a road to success.

“I am sure if we could get a really nice English girl,” hazarded Miss Roberta, wishing to propitiate, “it might be company for us all, Ginevra—­but if Mrs. Anderton insists upon sending another foreign person—­”

“And of course she will,” interrupted the elder lady; “people of Mrs. Anderton’s class always think it is more genteel to have a smattering of foreign languages than to know their own mother tongue.  We may get another German—­and that I could hardly bear.”

“Then do write to my stepfather, please, please,” cried Halcyone.  “Say I am going to be splendidly taught—­lots of interesting things—­and oh—­I will try so hard by myself to keep up what I already know.  I will practice—­really, really, Aunt Ginevra—­and do my German exercises and dear Aunt Roberta can talk French to me and even teach me the Italian songs that she sings so beautifully to her guitar!”