Uncle Geoffrey read his paper so industriously and did not peep
behind the urn. Dot did, and slipped a hot little hand in mine, in an
old-fashioned sympathizing way. Carrie, who was sitting in her usual
dreamy, abstracted way, suddenly startled us all by addressing Uncle
Geoffrey rather abruptly.

"Uncle Geoffrey, don't you think either Esther or I ought to go over
to the Thornes? They want a governess, you know."

"Eh, what?" returned Uncle Geoffrey, a little disturbed at the
interruption in the middle of the leading article. "The Thornes? Oh,
yes, somebody was saying something to me the other day about them;
what was it?" And he rubbed his hair a little irritably.

"We need not trouble Uncle Geoffrey," I put in, softly; "you and I
can go across before mother comes down. I must speak to Deborah, and
then I meant to hear Jack's lessons, but they can wait."

"Very well," returned Carrie, nonchalantly; and then she added, in
her composed, elder sisterly way, "I may as well tell you, Esther,
that I mean to apply for the place myself; it will be so handy, the
house being just opposite; far more convenient than if I had a longer
walk."

"Very well," was my response, but I could not help feeling a little
relief at her decision; the absence of any walk was an evil in my
eyes. The Thornes' windows looked into ours; already I had had a
sufficient glimpse of three rather untidy little heads over the wire
blind, and the spectacle had not attracted me. I ventured to hint my
fears to Carrie that they were not very interesting children; but, to