‘He looks,’ said Ann to herself, ‘he looks as though he might be amusing…’

Only one more letter to do, she was pleased to note, and then she might stroll round the garden…

III

Upstairs, Miss Johnson, the matron, was busy allotting rooms, welcoming newcomers, and greeting old pupils.

She was pleased it was term time again. She never knew quite what to do with herself in the holidays. She had two married sisters with whom she stayed in turn, but they were naturally more interested in their own doings and families than in Meadowbank. Miss Johnson, though dutifully fond of her sisters, was really only interested in Meadowbank.

Yes, it was nice that term had started—

‘Miss Johnson?’

‘Yes, Pamela.’

‘I say, Miss Johnson. I think something’s broken in my case. It’s oozed all over things. I think it’s hair oil.’

‘Chut, chut!’ said Miss Johnson, hurrying to help.

IV

On the grass sweep of lawn beyond the gravelled drive, Mademoiselle Blanche, the new French mistress, was walking. She looked with appreciative eyes at the powerful young man clipping the hedge.

‘Assez bien,’ thought Mademoiselle Blanche.

Mademoiselle Blanche was slender and mouselike and not very noticeable, but she herself noticed everything.

Her eyes went to the procession of cars sweeping up to the front door. She assessed them in terms of money. This Meadowbank was certainly formidable! She summed up mentally the profits that Miss Bulstrode must be making.

Yes, indeed! Formidable!

V

Miss Rich, who taught English and Geography, advanced towards the house at a rapid pace, stumbling a little now and then because, as usual, she forgot to look where she was going. Her hair, also as usual, had escaped from its bun. She had an eager ugly face.

She was saying to herself:

‘To be back again! To be here…It seems years…’ She fell over a rake, and the young gardener put out an arm and said:

‘Steady, miss.’

Eileen Rich said ‘Thank you,’ without looking at him.

VI

Miss Rowan and Miss Blake, the two junior mistresses, were strolling towards the Sports Pavilion. Miss Rowan was thin and dark and intense, Miss Blake was plump and fair. They were discussing with animation their recent adventures in Florence: the pictures they had seen, the sculpture, the fruit blossom, and the attentions (hoped to be dishonourable) of two young Italian gentlemen.

‘Of course one knows,’ said Miss Blake, ‘how Italians go on.’

‘Uninhibited,’ said Miss Rowan, who had studied Psychology as well as Economics. ‘Thoroughly healthy, one feels. No repressions.’

‘But Guiseppe was quite impressed when he found I taught at Meadowbank,’ said Miss Blake. ‘He became much more respectful at once. He has a cousin who wants to come here, but Miss Bulstrode was not sure she had a vacancy.’

‘Meadowbank is a school that really counts,’ said Miss Rowan, happily. ‘Really, the new Sports Pavilion looks most impressive. I never thought it would be ready in time.’

‘Miss Bulstrode said it had to be,’ said Miss Blake in the tone of one who has said the last word.