Charlie Codmans Cruise 15
XIV.
BERT.
In the breakfast-room of a house on Mt. Vernon Street sat two persons
with whom it is necessary that we should become acquainted.
The first is a gentleman of perhaps forty-five, rather stout, and
with a pleasant __EXPRESSION__ of countenance. He has finished his cup of
coffee, and taken up the morning paper, which he scans carefully, more
especially those parts relating to business.
At the opposite side of the table is a young lady of ten, with mirthful
black eyes, and very red cheeks, which are well set off by her black
hair. Altogether, she is very handsome, a fact of which she is not
altogether unconscious. She is lively, fresh, original, and impulsive,
not under very much restraint, but with an excellent disposition and
kindly feelings, which do not allow her to go very far wrong. Yet it
must be confessed that thus far her education has been sadly neglected,
so that, as far as learning goes, she probably knows less than most
girls two years younger.
The room, in which the father and daughter were seated, is tastefully
furnished with that regard to comfort which is found in our American
houses.
The two whom we have thus introduced are Benjamin Bowman, a wealthy
merchant, and his daughter Bertha, though, in that shortening of names
which is apt to take place in a family, hers has been shortened to
Bert, which she appears to prefer to the longer and more strictly
feminine name.
"Papa," she said, pushing away her plate, "you ain't good company at
all."
"Thank you for the compliment, Bert," he said.
"But you're not, though. There you are wearing out your eyes over that
stupid paper, and leaving me to talk to myself or Topsy. Here, Topsy,
isn't it so?"
At this summons a kitten, black as the ace of spades, and very much
addicted to fun and frolic, jumped into the lap of her young mistress,
and purred a noisy acquiescence.
"There," said Bert, triumphantly, "Topsy says I am right. I don't know
what I should do without Topsy."
"She makes a very suitable companion for you, Bert," said Mr. Bowman,
smiling.
"Why?" asked the cat's mistress, suspiciously.
"Because you can sympathize so well. Both are equally mischievous, and
it is very difficult to tell which knows the most of books."
"Now, papa, that is a slander. I will sue you for libel."
"On your own account, or the kitten's?" asked Mr. Bowman. "I really
don't know which I have done injustice to."
"Now you are laughing at me, papa. I know you are."
"Not entirely, Bert. The fact is, you are terribly ignorant for one of
your age."
"I suppose I am," said Bert, shaking her head in comic despair.
"You'll grow up with no more knowledge than a Hottentot."
"Don't they have any schools among the Hottentots?"
"I suppose not."
"How delightful that must be! Why can't we move out where they live?"
"I don't know but we shall have to," said her father, "as, hereabouts,
young ladies are expected to know something about books. But that
reminds me I don't know but I shall succeed in engaging a governess for
you to-day."
"A governess to-day!" exclaimed Bert, in dismay.
"Yes. I have made an appointment with a lady to call here at nine
o'clock, and, if I am satisfied with her, I intend to engage her."
"And if _I_ am satisfied with her," added Bert.
"Is that essential?" asked her father, smiling.
"Yes, for you know she will be with me most of the time. If she is like
Julia Campbell's governess, I sha'n't like her."
"Well, and what fault do you find with Julia Campbell's governess?"
asked Mr. Bowman, with more interest than his tone conveyed; for he
knew that if Bert did not fancy her governess she would be a most
incorrigible little rebel, and would be likely to profit very little by
her instructions.
"Oh, she's as disagreeable as she can be. In the first place, she's an
old maid,--not that that's so _very_ bad. In fact, I've about made up
my mind to be an old maid myself."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Bowman, amused. "May I inquire your reasons?"
"Too numerous to mention."
"Perhaps one is, that you don't expect to have any chance to change
your name."
"I have had a chance already," said Bert, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Had a chance already!" exclaimed her father, in amazement.
"Yes," said the young lady of ten, "Charlie Morrill offered himself the
other day, and I refused him."
"What is the world coming to?" thought Mr. Bowman. "Why did you refuse
him?"
"Because," said Bert, soberly, "I don't like the way he parts his hair.
But as for Julia's governess, I know she never had an offer. She's as
homely as--as--well, I don't know who. Then she wears glasses, and has
a nose ever so long, and a long face, and she never smiles, and she
makes Julia study terrible hard."
And Bert drew a long breath.
"Not a very charming picture, certainly," said Mr. Bowman; "but I'll
promise you that, if the lady who applies for the post of governess
to-day should be anything like this, I won't engage her."
"That's right, papa. When do you expect her?"
"Let me see. She was to be here at nine, and now it wants only ten
minutes of that time."
"And you won't send me out of the room, papa, will you?"
Mr. Bowman hesitated.
"You know I am very anxious to see how she looks. If I like her, I will
make a sign to you, and then you can engage her."
"What sign will you make, Bert?" asked her father, amused, and yet
alive to the necessity of securing his daughter's acquiescence in his
choice.
"I don't know," said Bert, reflecting; "suppose I wink."
"And suppose the lady should see you winking at me? What do you suppose
she would think?"
"Oh, I could tell her afterwards, you know, and she would feel
flattered, knowing it was a sign that I liked her."
"She might not think it very lady-like in you."
"What's the use of being lady-like? I don't want to be. There's
Florence Gates; I suppose she's lady-like. I'll show you how she walks."
Bert imitated the gait of the young lady, swaying herself from side to
side, as she walked with mincing step, tossing her head, and exhibiting
a caricature of the airs and affectations which girls sometimes delight
to display.
"Why, she wouldn't run for a thousand dollars," exclaimed Bert. "She
would think it beneath her dignity. If _she_ is lady-like, I don't want
to be. But, hark! there goes the bell. She's coming. Now, papa, just
remember, I shall wink if I like her, and if I don't I'll make up a
face."
Bert transferred herself to an ottoman, and took Topsy into her lap.
Both she and her father looked towards the door with curiosity.
XV.
MRS. CODMAN'S GOOD FORTUNE.
Mrs. Codman had been carefully educated at a large expense, and was
versed in all the accomplishments which are considered indispensable in
a young lady's education nowadays. It was with no degree of hesitation
on this point, therefore, that she set out this particular morning to
present herself as an applicant for the post of governess. Having no
influential friends, however, and not being able to present references
from a former employer (this being her first essay in this line), she
feared that her application would be unsuccessful. She could not but
feel a considerable degree of anxiety, for her circumstances had become
desperate, owing to the refusal of her former employers to give her any
more sewing.
She dressed herself as neatly as her limited wardrobe would admit, and
with hearty good wishes and many glowing predictions of success from
her humble friend, Mrs. O'Grady, she set out.
Though some years past thirty, Mrs. Codman so far retained the
freshness of youth, that she would hardly have been taken for this age.
As a girl she had been very beautiful, and her womanhood did not belie
her early promise. Her attire, though not expensive, was in good taste
and characterized by a lady-like simplicity.
Such was the applicant for the post of governess, upon whom the
curious eyes of Bert and her father fell as she was ushered into the
breakfast-room by the servant, who had received orders to do so. She
entered the room with the easy grace of a lady. Mr. Bowman at once
recognized her claim to be considered such by deferentially rising, and
inviting her to be seated.
"If I mistake not," he said, politely, "you are the lady who has been
recommended to me as possessing excellent qualifications for the office
of governess."
"Perhaps the recommendation was too strong and decided," said Mrs.
Codman, modestly. "I shall be glad, however, to be considered an
applicant for the position."
Here Mr. Bowman, who chanced to glance at Bert, detected her executing
a surprising succession of winks, indicating the favorable impression
which had been made upon her by the appearance of Mrs. Codman.
Already prepossessed in favor of the applicant, this was an additional
inducement to engage her, as her success would depend, to a very great
extent, upon the young lady's good-will.
"I suppose," he said, "you feel prepared to teach the branches and
accomplishments usually included in the education of a young lady."
Mrs. Codman bowed.
"I ain't a young lady," interrupted Bert, at this point, who thought
she was in imminent danger of becoming too learned.
"We hope you will be some time," said Mr. Bowman.
In reply, Bert winked once more.
There was a piano in the room.
"Will you favor us with a specimen of your playing?" asked Mr. Bowman.
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