enough.â
âAnd are you a princess, Adela?â said Sefton.
âNo. Servants are as good as anyone else,â said Adela, disposing of any need for the flight of fancy.
âWell, no one seems to know it,â said Aldom.
âWell, you would not expect them to act up to it, if you have noticed anything.â
Adela was a lively, healthy-looking woman of thirty-five, with interested, busy eyes, a confident cast of feature, and an independent mien that could be decorous. She was one person with the children, another with their parents, with Miss Petticott a third, and with Aldom herself, though through all the characters went something of the same essence.
Aldom had two characters, of which one was his own. Whether or no he was a prince in disguise downstairs, he was someone in disguise.
âI expect we can do as we like about going to school,â said Clemence, swinging her feet from a window-seat.
Sefton looked at her in question.
âThen you will stay at home,â said Adela. âSo we shall see if that is the truth.â
âOne begins to look at the matter all round. There is more than one side to everything.â
âShe has come on since I first knew her,â said Adela, looking at Aldom.
âAs is natural, as that was thirteen years ago,â said Clemence.
âHe is still a little boy,â said Adela, putting her arm round Sefton.
âOh, look at the love,â said Aldom.
âIt seems a shame to send a child like him away from his home.â
Sefton proved his agreement by showing some emotion.
âThere, there, perhaps it wonât happen. I donât feel as if it would,â said Adela, successfully checking it.
âYou wonât say anything to Mother or Father to make them send us,â he said to Clemence.
âNo, I shall just let matters take their course.â
âHe is going to school at eleven. I left school then,â said Aldom. âIt was nearly twenty years ago, in the year eighteen hundred and seventy-five. I had gone as far as was required.â
âOh, you!â said Adela, not accepting any parallel.
âAnd how far had you gone?â
âWe left in the end, wherever we were,â said Adela, leaving anything incidental to be inferred. âI never could see that schoolbooks led to anything. They are nothing to do with life, and it is life we are concerned with, not the records of what it used to be. And why send the two at the same time, when one of them is three years older?â
âClemence is a girl,â said Aldom.
âYou should really call me âMiss Clemence.ââ
âOh, the grandeur!â said Adela. âNot that you shouldnât, Aldom. I wonder how you think of yourself.â
âI told you as a prince in disguise.â
âYou would not say âClemence,â if Mother or Father were here.â
âWell, we shouldnât, any of us, be quite the same then,â said Adela. âI daresay you are not the same in the dining-room as you are up here. What would you say, Aldom?â
âWell, you might not say that I was the same then either.â
âThe prince is even more disguised,â said Clemence. âI expect we shall get to be more the same, if we go to school.â
Sefton looked at her with trouble in his eyes at her acceptance of the threat to their lives.
âSo you are going to leave us behind, are you?â said Adela.
âWell, of course, our position is different.â
âThe person whose position I should not like, is Miss Petticott,â said Adela. âI would rather be one thing or the other, and know where I stood.â
âI donât find knowing it such an advantage,â said Aldom. âI would not mind its being a little less to the fore.â
âI wish we could always go on in the life we know,â said Sefton. âWe have not learned what to do in any other.â
âIt may