As the end of the six months of probation approached, Madam became more
and more anxious. Ever since Eleanor's high-handed departure she had been
undergoing a metamorphosis. Like most autocrats, the only things of which
she took notice were the ones that impeded her progress. When they proved
sufficiently formidable to withstand annihilation, she awarded them the
respect that was their due. Eleanor's childish whim, heretofore crushed
under her disapprobation, now loomed as a terrifying possibility. The
girl had proved her mettle by living through the winter on a smaller
allowance than Madam paid her cook. She had shown perseverance and pluck,
and an amazing ability to get along without the aid of the family. In a
few months she would be of age, and with the small legacy left her by her
spendthrift father, would be in a position to snap her fingers in the
face of authority.
"If it weren't for that fool Phipps I'd have her home in twenty-four
hours," Madam declared to Quin. "She'll be wanting to take a professional
engagement next."
Quin tried to reassure her, but his words rang hollow. He too was growing
anxious as the months passed and Eleanor showed no sign of returning.
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