) "that you will not think me rude if I say that I was not
prepared for the sort of person I was to see."

I could have groaned as I thought of my note. Was it possible that I had
spelt "advertisement" wrongly, and yet I had the paper before me; my
handwriting was neat and legible, but evidently Mrs. Morton was drawing
some comparison between my letter and appearance, and I did not doubt
that the former had not prepossessed her in my favour.

I became confused in my turn.

"I hope to prove to you," I began, in a very small voice, "that I am a
fit person to apply for your situation. I am very fond of children; I
never lose my patience with them as other people do, or think anything a
trouble; I wish to take up this work from love as well as necessity--I
mean," correcting myself, for she looked still more astonished, "that
though I am obliged to work for my living, I would rather be a nurse
than anything else."

"Will you answer a few questions?" and, as though by an afterthought,
"will you sit down?" for she had been standing to keep me company out of
deference to my superior appearance.

"I will answer any question you like to put to me, madam."

"You have never been in service you tell me in your letter. Have you
ever filled any kind of situation?"

I shook my head.

"You are quite young I should say?"

"Two and twenty last Christmas."

"I should hardly have thought you so old. Will you oblige me with your
name?"

"Merle Fenton."

A half smile crossed her beautiful mouth. It was evident that she found
the name somewhat incongruous, and then she continued a little hastily,
"If you have never filled any sort of situation, it will be somewhat
difficult to judge of your capacity. Of course you have good references;
can you tell me a little about yourself and your circumstances?"

I was fast losing my nervousness by this time. In a few minutes I had
given her a concise account of myself and my belongings. Once or twice
she interrupted me by a question, such as, for example, when I spoke of
Aunt Agatha, she asked the names of the families where she had lived as
a governess; and once she looked a little surprised at my answer.

"I knew the Curzons before I was married," she observed, quietly; "they
have often talked to me of their old governess, Miss Fenton; her name is
Keith now, you say; she was a great favourite with her pupils. Well, is
it not a pity that you should not follow your aunt's example? If you