"Better far you were attending to
things you can see. They'll be coming down and carrying you off, some of
these fine nights!"
"The Immortals don't care so much about the nights, Priscilla--unless
Artemis is abroad--she does--but the others like the sunlight and great
white clouds and a still blue sky. I am quite safe--" and Halcyone
smiled.
Priscilla began tidying up.
"Ma'm'selle's wrote to the mistresses to say she won't come back, she
can't put up with the place any longer."
This sounded too good to be true! Another governess going! Surely they
would see it was no use asking any more to come to La Sarthe
Chase--Halcyone had never had one who could appreciate its beauties.
Governesses to her were poor-spirited creatures afraid of rats, and the
dark passages--and one and all resentful of the rag-stuffed panes in the
long gallery. Surely with the new-found Cheiron to instruct her about
those divine Greeks a fresh governess was unnecessary.
"I shall ask Aunt Ginevra to implore my stepfather not to send any more.
We don't want them, do we, Priscilla?"
"That we don't, my lamb!" agreed Priscilla.
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