‘Dull…’ murmured Miss Bulstrode, struck again by the fatal word.

Ann looked at her in surprise.

‘Don’t mind me,’ said Miss Bulstrode. ‘It’s just that sometimes one particular word seems to crop up all the time. How would you have liked to be a schoolmistress?’ she asked, with some curiosity.

‘I’m afraid I should hate it,’ said Ann frankly.

‘Why?’

‘I’d find it terribly dull—Oh, I am sorry.’

She stopped in dismay.

‘Teaching isn’t in the least dull,’ said Miss Bulstrode with spirit. ‘It can be the most exciting thing in the world. I shall miss it terribly when I retire.’

‘But surely—’ Ann stared at her. ‘Are you thinking of retiring?’

‘It’s decided—yes. Oh, I shan’t go for another year—or even two years.’

‘But—why?’

‘Because I’ve given my best to the school—and had the best from it. I don’t want second best.’

‘The school will carry on?’

‘Oh yes. I have a good successor.’

‘Miss Vansittart, I suppose?’

‘So you fix on her automatically?’ Miss Bulstrode looked at her sharply, ‘That’s interesting—’

‘I’m afraid I hadn’t really thought about it. I’ve just overheard the staff talking. I should think she’ll carry on very well—exactly in your tradition. And she’s very striking looking, handsome and with quite a presence. I imagine that’s important, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. Yes, I’m sure Eleanor Vansittart is the right person.’

‘She’ll carry on where you leave off,’ said Ann gathering up her things.

But do I want that? thought Miss Bulstrode to herself as Ann went out. Carry on where I leave off? That’s just what Eleanor will do! No new experiments, nothing revolutionary. That wasn’t the way I made Meadowbank what it is. I took chances. I upset lots of people. I bullied and cajoled, and refused to follow the pattern of other schools. Isn’t that what I want to follow on here now? Someone to pour new life into the school. Some dynamic personality…like—yes—Eileen Rich.

But Eileen wasn’t old enough, hadn’t enough experience. She was stimulating, though, she could teach. She had ideas. She would never be dull—Nonsense, she must get that word out of her mind. Eleanor Vansittart was not dull…

She looked up as Miss Chadwick came in.

‘Oh, Chaddy,’ she said. ‘I am pleased to see you!’

Miss Chadwick looked a little surprised.

‘Why? Is anything the matter?’

‘I’m the matter. I don’t know my own mind.’

‘That’s very unlike you, Honoria.’

‘Yes, isn’t it? How’s the term going, Chaddy?’

‘Quite all right, I think.’ Miss Chadwick sounded a little unsure.

Miss Bulstrode pounced.

‘Now then. Don’t hedge. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Really, Honoria, nothing at all. It’s just—’ Miss Chadwick wrinkled up her forehead and looked rather like a perplexed Boxer dog—‘Oh, a feeling. But really it’s nothing that I can put a finger on. The new girls seem a pleasant lot. I don’t care for Mademoiselle Blanche very much. But then I didn’t like Geneviève Depuy, either. Sly.’

Miss Bulstrode did not pay very much attention to this criticism. Chaddy always accused the French mistresses of being sly.