Force did look at it--commiseratingly--and said she
would be pleased to take Mrs. Bingle in to see her dressmaker, and so
on and so forth. Mrs. Bingle expressed some doubt as to any modiste's
ability to make her look like Mrs. Force and Mrs. Force pooh-poohed
graciously.
Mr. Force bit off the end of a cigar and glumly watched the revivified
servants arranging the chairs. Occasionally he sent a puzzled glance
at little Kathleen.
Mr. Bingle rubbed his spectacles, while Mr. Flanders confined his
attention solely to the slim, graceful head and neck of the new
governess. He wore the look of one who has much to do to contain
himself in patience. As for Miss Fairweather, a warm glow had settled
upon her fair cheek and her eyes were bright.
"I always cry when any one reads aloud about Tiny Tim," she said to
Mr. Force, who, for obvious reasons, failed to hear her above the
chattering of the children. But Flanders heard.
"Tiny Tim always makes me cry too," he said, very distinctly. He was
rewarded by a slightly increased colour in the young lady's cheek.
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