CHAPTER THREE

That first day had been very exciting. It filled me with all kinds of hope for the future. I was very eager about meeting the boy the following day. However, something happened that evening that made me less comfortable with the situation.

Before dinner, Mrs Grose gave me a letter from the boy's school. Although, she had not read it, she did not seem happy that it had come. "It's from the leader of his school. A very unpleasant and boring man! I have no interest at all in what he has to say about our boy, Miles!"

I took the envelope upstairs to my bedroom and, after changing into my evening bedclothes, opened it. As soon as I read it, I wished that I had waited until the next morning to open it. It made me very upset and I could not sleep the whole night. The next day, I decided to go to Mrs Grose first thing in the morning and share the news with her.

"The school will no longer accept Miles as their student."

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, "The school always sends the children home during holiday."

"It's very clear in the letter that he is never to return to the school," I said.

Her eyes then became watery. "Why would they do this? Has he done something wrong?"

I held out the letter to her to take and read herself, but she would not accept it. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't want to read it."

I realized then that Mrs Grose was not able to read! I felt guilty for having embarrassed her. In order to avoid further uncomfortable feelings I asked, "What sort of child is Miles? Is he a good boy?"

"What does the school say, exactly," she asked, her eyes still red and full of water.

"They did not say what exactly was wrong. He is simply no longer allowed to attend their school. I can only guess that there must have been a problem with him and the other students."

Mrs Grose's eyes then grew wide and her face turned a little red. "Ha! Not our Miles!"

I do not know why, exactly, but I responded to this cry as though I knew Miles as well as she did. "Can you believe it? The school acts like none of the other students are problems themselves!"

"How can they treat a little boy so terribly! He's not even ten yet!" added Mrs Grose. "You will meet him tomorrow. Then you'll know what kind of a boy he really is. Just look at how sweet and wonderful his little sister is. Do you think her brother could be so different?"

I looked about the room and found Flora where I had left her, working at a little desk in the classroom. Now, however, she had stopped practicing her writing and was simply looking at me in a very gentle and childish way. I was so moved by her purity that I immediately ran over to her and put my arms around her. Tears of guilt came into my eyes for doubting the goodness of her brother.

From that time, I grew more and more eager to meet the young boy. All day, I looked for an opportunity to speak more with Mrs Grose about him; however, she never seemed available. As evening approached, I began to think that she was keeping away from me on purpose. Finally, I managed to meet her alone as she was coming downstairs from the second floor. I stopped in front of her and, looking her in the eyes, said, "From the way you speak about Miles, it seems that you have never seen him behave badly."

"Well, I didn't mean to make you think that," she replied.

"So has he been bad before?"

"Of course he has, I'm happy to say!" she said with a challenging look.

"You're pleased with his bad behavior?" I asked.

"It's quite natural, isn't it? I don't think I'd like a child that was completely good! How boring!"

I thought about this for a moment. "I agree with you. However, it's not good if the boy is so bad that he causes other boys to be bad, as well."

She laughed a little at this and said, "Do you fear that he'll make you bad?" I decided not to let this comment bother me and laughed with Mrs Grose.

However, the next day, just before going to meet Miles, my worries returned and I asked Mrs Grose about the teacher that had worked with the children before me.

"She was very much like yourself: young and very attractive," she answered.

"It seems that the young man who hired me likes his employees to be this way," I commented.

"Yes. It was true. He almost always hired the youngest and prettiest people."

I was confused. Why was she using the past tense to speak about her boss? She acted as though he were dead! She must have noticed the look of confusion on my face, for she then corrected herself, "I mean, it's true. He does like pretty women."

"Were you talking about someone else at first?" I asked, still confused.

Her face changed a little. She seemed uncomfortable for a moment and then said, "No. I was just talking about my master. No one else."

"Did the teacher before me ever had a problem with Miles?"

"If she did, she never said anything to me about it."

"Do you think that she watched him closely?" I asked.

"Well ... yes. I mean she was very good with the children in some ways."

"You mean there were some things that were not good?"

"I'm sorry, but she's dead now, and I'd rather not judge her."

"Yes, of course," I said. However, my curiosity was too great to prevent me from asking, "Where did she die, exactly?"

"Not here. She died elsewhere."

I could not understand why Mrs Grose was not saying much about her. 'Elsewhere'. Where did she go? I decided to question her a little more about it.

"So she must have become very sick. Did her family come and take her back to their home to care for her?"

"No, she simply went away on vacation. She had been working for us long enough that she needed a break. I remember the master one day telling me that she had died."

"But how did she die?"

"I was never told. Really, I'd rather not speak much more about it," she said, "I have to prepare for the young boy's return."

(end of section)