"
Tom made a paper bullet and flung it at Constance, his honest eyes half
laughing.
"So should I approve," said Hamish. "It is a case, taking into
consideration my father's state, in which all of us should help who are
able. Of course, were you boys grown up and getting money, Constance
_should_ be exempt from aiding and abetting; but as it is, it is
different. There will be no disgrace in her becoming a governess; and
Helstonleigh will never think it so. She is a lady always, and so she
would be if she were to turn to and wash up dishes. The only doubt
is--"
He stopped, and looked hesitatingly at Constance. As if penetrating his
meaning, her eyes fell before his.
"--Whether Yorke will like it," went on Hamish, as though he had not
halted in his sentence. And the pretty blush in Constance Channing's
face deepened to a glowing crimson. Tom made a whole heap of bullets at
once, and showered them on to her.
"So Hamish--be quiet, Tom!--you may inquire all over Helstonleigh
to-morrow, whether any one wants a governess; a well-trained young lady
of twenty-one, who can play, sing, and paint, speak really good
English, and decent French, and has a smattering of German," rattled on
Constance, as if to cover her blushes. "I shall ask forty guineas a
year. Do you think I shall get it?"
"I think you ought to ask eighty," said Arthur.
"So I would, if I were thirty-one instead of twenty-one," said
Constance.
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