Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie Page A

you ever find life dull here, Eleanor?”
    “No, indeed,” said Miss Vansittart. “I find the work here most stimulating and satisfying. You must feel very proud and happy, Honoria, at the great success you have achieved.”
    “I think I've made a good job of things,” said Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully. "Nothing, of course, is ever quite as one first imagined it...
    “Tell me, Eleanor,” she said suddenly, “if you were running this place instead of me, what changes would you make? Don't mind saying. I shall be interested to hear.”
    “I don't think I should want to make any changes,” said Eleanor Vansittart. “It seems to me the spirit of the place and the whole organization is well-nigh perfect.”
    “You'd carry on on the same lines, you mean?”
    “Yes, indeed. I don't think they could be bettered.”
    Miss Bulstrode was silent for a moment. She was thinking to herself: “I wonder if she said that in order to please me. One never knows with people. However close to them you may have been for years. Surely, she can't really mean that. Anybody with any creative feeling at all must want to make changes. It's true, though, that it mightn't have seemed tactful to say so... And tact is very important. It's important with parents, it's important with the girls, it's important with the staff. Eleanor certainly has tact.”
    Aloud, she said, “There must always be adjustments, though, mustn't there? I mean with changing ideas and conditions of life generally.”
    “Oh, that, yes,” said Miss Vansittart. “One has, as they say, to go with the times. But it's your school, Honoria, you've made it what it is and your traditions are the essence of it. I think tradition is very important, don't you?”
    Miss Bulstrode did not answer. She was hovering on the brink of irrevocable words. The offer of a partnership hung in the air. Miss Vansittart, though seeming unaware in her well-bred way, must be conscious of the fact that it was there. Miss Bulstrode did not know really what was holding her back. Why did she so dislike to commit herself? Probably, she admitted ruefully, because she hated the idea of giving up control. Secretly, of course, she wanted to stay, she wanted to go on running her school. But surely nobody could be a worthier successor than Eleanor? So dependable, so reliable. Of course, as far as that went, so was dear Chaddy - reliable as they came. And yet you could never envisage Chaddy as headmistress of an outstanding school.
    “What do I want?” said Miss Bulstrode to herself.
    “How tiresome I am being! Really, indecision has never been one of my faults up to now.”
    A bell sounded in the distance.
    “My German class,” said Miss Vansittart. “I must go in.” She moved at a rapid but dignified step toward the school buildings. Following her more slowly, Miss Bulstrode almost collided with Eileen Rich, hurrying from a side path.
    “Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Bulstrode. I didn't see you.” Her hair, as usual, was escaping from its untidy bun. Miss Bulstrode noted anew the ugly but interesting bones of her face, a strange, eager, compelling young woman.
    “You've got a class?” she asked.
    “Yes. English.”
    “You enjoy teaching, don't you?” said Miss Bulstrode.
    “I love it. It's the most fascinating thing in the world.”
    “Why?”
    Eileen Rich stopped dead. She ran a hand through her hair. She frowned with the effort of thought.
    “How interesting. I don't know that I've ever really thought about it. Why does one like teaching? Is it because it makes one feel grand and important? No, no... it's not as bad as that. No, it's more like fishing, I think. You don't know what catch you're going to get, what you're going to drag up from the sea. It's the quality of the response. It's so exciting when it comes. It doesn't very often, of course.”
    Miss Bulstrode nodded in agreement. She had been right! This girl had something!
    “I expect you'll run a school of your own some day,” she