The classroom was deserted. There were no children, no overalls, or pencil boxes, or chalk at the blackboard, or maps, or wooden models for geometry. A shiver ran down the librarian’s spine. Who had left? Mr. or Mrs. Mott?
“They’ve both gone,” said the Man in the Wing Chair slowly as the two of them each sank into a diminutive classroom chair, “but not together, I’m afraid. Maybe my mother was right, after all. I’m so sorry for Eugenia. She didn’t deserve this.”
Miss Prim felt pity for the schoolteacher, though she still didn’t understand what had gone on.
“Where has Miss Mott gone? What’s happened?”
“Mr. Mott has done it again. He didn’t come home last night. He left her a note saying that he’d tried, but he felt trapped. She’s packed her bags and gone to her sister’s. I don’t think she’ll come back.”
The librarian looked at her employer sympathetically. She slid out of her seat and went to sit beside him.
“I think you’re too intelligent to feel guilty.”
He looked up at her and smiled absently.
“I don’t feel guilty, I feel responsible. Eugenia is a very romantic, fragile woman. She’s so sensitive. I should have been more cautious and given her better advice.”
On hearing the wordsensitive,Miss Prim flinched.
“What’s wrong with sensitivity?”
“Absolutely nothing. It’s a wonderful quality, but it’s not ideal for thinking.”
“Do you mean that we sensitive people don’t know how to think?”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked at her again, this time with curiosity.
“Ah, so we’re talking about you, are we?”
Prudencia reddened and began to rise from her chair, but he stopped her.
“Of course we’re not talking about me,” she said, head held high, “it’s just that I don’t understand what sensitivity’s got to do with imprudence, naìveté, or lack of judgment, which is what I think you mean when speaking about poor Miss Mott.”
“Sensitivity is a gift, Prudencia, I’m perfectly well aware of that. But it’s not a suitable tool for guiding thought, when it can be disastrous. It’s the same with ears and food. A wonderful organ, the ear. A miracle of design, intended down to its last cell to facilitate hearing, but try using it to eat with and see how you get on.”
She laughed, causing her companion to give a genuine smile for the first time.
“So you think that Eugenia Mott was trying to eat with her ears and you weren’t strong, or skillful, or responsible enough to tell her so? Is that it?”
“It doesn’t sound very flattering, but I suppose that is it.”
After a few moments’ reflection, Miss Prim suddenly rose and turned to face her employer.
“Well, let me tell you, you’re incredibly arrogant.”
He looked up, shocked by this outburst and the triumphant grin on her face.
“Are you trying to start an argument?” he asked in disbelief. “Because if you are, I have to warn you, this is the wrong day for it.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “I’m just trying to help. You should know that the world doesn’t run on your advice. It might seem strange, but that’s the way it is. Yes, you may impress some and dazzle others with your learning and those good manners, even when you’re being self-important, but don’t delude yourself. The people around you listen but that doesn’t mean they always do what you say.”
The Man in the Wing Chair now looked confused. Taking advantage of this, she went on.
“There’s no point denying it. This morning you got up convinced that Eugenia Mott’s unhappiness was entirely down to you and your supposed irresponsibility. This not only places a huge, unwarranted burden on your shoulders but also shows an excessive regard for your own opinion, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Would it make any difference if I did mind?”
Miss Prim paused, apparently pleased with the effect of her words. She realized she’d managed to change his mood. Miss Mott’s plight was very sad and Miss Prim felt profoundly sorry. But she was sure that he had acted loyally and properly in advising the teacher as he had, and Miss Prim wasn’t prepared to let him berate himself. Now he was slightly angry with her, but at least he no longer appeared dejected and his voice had recovered the beat of war drums that had so alarmed her when they’d first met. But this wasn’t enough. She had to continue the attack. And she knew exactly how to do it.
