“To the old place, inside a letter to Mrs. Mercer.” “I see! Poor Mrs. Mercer went away ill, and did not live long after, and I suppose her people never troubled themselves about her letters. But why did not you get ours.” “Mrs. McIan died at Venice, and the aunts came out, and considering me too young to go on with the laird and his girls, they fairly made me over to a Russian family whom we had met. Unluckily, as I see now, I wrote to Mrs. Mercer, and as I never heard more I gave up writing. Then the Crimean War cut me off entirely even from David. I had only one letter all that time.” “How is it that you are a governess? I thought one was sure of a pension from a Russian grandee!” “These were not very grand grandees, only counts, and though they paid liberally, they could not pension one. So when I had done with the youngest daughter, I came to England and found a situation in London. I tried to look up our old set, but could not get on the track of anyone except Emily Collins, who told me you had married very soon, but was not even sure of your name. Very soon! Why, Caroline, your daughter looks as old as yourself.” “I sometimes think she is older! And have you seen my Eton boy?” “Was it he who received the delightful popinjay, who ‘Up and spak’ so much to the purpose?” asked Mr. Ogilvie. “Yes, it was Allen. He is the only one you did not see in the morning. Did they do tolerably?” “I only wish I had any boys who did half as well,” said Mr. Ogilvie, the lads being gone for more books. “I was afraid for John and Armine, for we have been unsettled, and I could not go on so steadily with them as before,” she said eagerly, but faltering a little. “Armine told me he blundered in Phaedrus, but I hope he did fairly on the whole.” “So well that if you ask my advice, I should say keep him to yourself two years more.” “Oh! I am so glad,” with a little start of joy. “You’ll tell his uncle? He insisted--he had some impression that they were very naughty boys, whom I could not cope with, poor little fellows.” “I can decidedly say he is learning more from you than he would in school among those with whom, at his age, I must place him.” “Thank you, thank you. Then Babie won’t lose her companion. She wanted to go to school with Armie, having always gone on with him. And the other two--what of them? Bobus is sure to work for the mere pleasure of it--but Jock?” “I don’t promise that he may not let himself down to the standard of his age and develop a capacity for idleness, but even he has time to spare, and he is at that time of life when boys do for one another what no one else can do for them.” “The Colonel said the boys were a good set and gentlemanly,” said Carey wistfully.