Eyton-Eyton--beautifully gowned, hired
victoria in waiting--took her seat; Mary hovered behind--and
catastrophe swooped. Master Thomas grabbed for a glass of milk; Mary
strove to restrain him. There was an awkward struggle, her elbow--or
his--caught the plate of pudding, tipped the sticky mass into the
silken lap of Mrs. Eyton-Eyton, beautifully gowned, hired victoria in
waiting.
Infuriated, Mrs. Eyton-Eyton turned upon Mary. "Oh, you little fool!"
The rebuke that should have been taken with downcast eyes, murmured
apologies, was otherwise received.
"Mrs. Eyton! How dare you call me a fool!"
Pause of blank amazement; sago-messed table-napkin in the scented
hand; sago creeping down the silken skirt. That a nursery governess--
not even a servant--should so presume!
"Miss Humfray! You forget yourself!"
"No!-No! It is you who forget yourself. How dare you speak to me like
that!"
Another moment of utter bewilderment; small Eyton-Eytons gazing round-
eyed; the girl white, heaving; the woman dully red. Then "Pack your
boxes, Miss!"
XI.
She was upon the platform at Victoria Station, a porter asking
commands for her box, before she realised what she had done. A few
pounds in her purse, and infinitely worse off now than a week before.
Then she had no "character"; now employment was to be sought with Mrs.
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