Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie

letters.
    Dear Lady Valence. Jane has had some trouble with her ears. I enclose the doctor’s report—etc.
    Dear Baron Von Eisenger. We can certainly arrange for Hedwig to go to the Opera on the occasion of Hellstern’s taking the role of Isolda —
    An hour passed swiftly. Miss Bulstrode seldom paused for a word. Ann Shapland’s pencil raced over the pad.
    A very good secretary, Miss Bulstrode thought to herself. Better than Vera Lorrimer. Tiresome girl, Vera. Throwing up her post so suddenly. A nervous breakdown, she had said. Something to do with a man, Miss Bulstrode thought resignedly. It was usually a man.
    â€œThat’s the lot,” said Miss Bulstrode, as she dictated the last word. She heaved a sigh of relief.
    â€œSo many dull things to be done,” she remarked. “Writingletters to parents is like feeding dogs. Pop some soothing platitude into every waiting mouth.”
    Ann laughed. Miss Bulstrode looked at her appraisingly.
    â€œWhat made you take up secretarial work?”
    â€œI don’t quite know. I had no special bent for anything in particular, and it’s the sort of thing almost everybody drifts into.”
    â€œYou don’t find it monotonous?”
    â€œI suppose I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a lot of different jobs. I was with Sir Mervyn Todhunter, the archaeologist, for a year, then I was with Sir Andrew Peters in Shell. I was secretary to Monica Lord, the actress, for a while—that really was hectic!” She smiled in remembrance.
    â€œThere’s a lot of that nowadays amongst you girls,” said Miss Bulstrode. “All this chopping and changing.” She sounded disapproving.
    â€œActually, I can’t do anything for very long. I’ve got an invalid mother. She’s rather—well—difficult from time to time. And then I have to go back home and take charge.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œBut all the same, I’m afraid I should chop and change anyway. I haven’t got the gift for continuity. I find chopping and changing far less dull.”
    â€œDull … ” murmured Miss Bulstrode, struck again by the fatal word.
    Ann looked at her in surprise.
    â€œDon’t mind me,” said Miss Bulstrode. “It’s just that sometimes one particular word seems to crop up all the time. How would you have liked to be a schoolmistress?” she asked, with some curiosity.
    â€œI’m afraid I should hate it,” said Ann frankly.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI’d find it terribly dull—Oh, I am sorry.”
    She stopped in dismay.
    â€œTeaching isn’t in the least dull,” said Miss Bulstrode with spirit. “It can be the most exciting thing in the world. I shall miss it terribly when I retire.”
    â€œBut surely—” Ann stared at her. “Are you thinking of retiring?”
    â€œIt’s decided—yes. Oh, I shan’t go for another year—or even two years.”
    â€œBut—why?”
    â€œBecause I’ve given my best to the school—and had the best from it. I don’t want second best.”
    â€œThe school will carry on?”
    â€œOh yes. I have a good successor.”
    â€œMiss Vansittart, I suppose?”
    â€œSo you fix on her automatically?” Miss Bulstrode looked at her sharply, “That’s interesting—”
    â€œI’m afraid I hadn’t really thought about it. I’ve just overheard the staff talking. I should think she’ll carry on very well—exactly in your tradition. And she’s very striking-looking, handsome and with quite a presence. I imagine that’s important, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, it is. Yes, I’m sure Eleanor Vansittart is the right person.”
    â€œShe’ll carry on where you leave off,” said Ann gathering up her things.
    But do I want that? thought Miss Bulstrode to herself as Ann went out. Carry on where I leave off? That’s just what