Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
Mrs. Surdan was naturally pleased. For them, at least, it is a great match.
“I little thought that it would end like this, when you asked me to take charge of Hilda for three months,” I said.
And that reminded me that what they called “Hilda’s pocket-money” was lying almost untouched at the bank in Arthur’s name. There had been no ball, hardly anything. . . But I could not get Mrs. Surdan to say what should be done with it. . .
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she answered.
“So, if it’s a failure, don’t blame me,” I said. “And, if it’s a success, don’t thank me.”
“I shall always thank you for your kindness to Hilda,” she said, “especially when she was ill.”
“That was nothing,” I said.
“Hilda’s parents don’t think so.”
And then she did a difficult thing very gracefully. We must have the girl’s room properly disinfected, she told me; I assured her that Arthur had already received an estimate for redecorating the whole house. Thanks to them, we were now in a position. . . Hilda’s room, she insisted, must be her province. I have told you that in the old committee days she positively imposed her will on the rest of us; so now. She would not leave the house until she
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