It was the woman who had waited two hours. An indignant and subdued chorus began, which ended only when the blond young lady reappeared, smiling falsely, and walked past them all to the front door. She had failure written upon her face; and she knew it, and was very anxious to be gone. But the front door would not open; she was obliged to stand there, fumbling with the lock, raked by the eyes of those whom she had defrauded. "She didn’t stay long!" observed the old lady. "Well, I didn’t think she’d suit." "Of course not!" said another. "Such tricks never bring any good luck," said the old lady. "After all, there is such a thing as justice in this world, and no----” The red-haired lady returned and opened the front door. "Now then!" she said, beckoning to Angelica. Angelica shook her head. "No--I’m the last," she replied. "It doesn’t matter about the order. Please come in." So Angelica followed her into a dark little paneled room, where an orange-shaded lamp glowed from the top of a piano, showing carved chairs, a soft, dull rug, a harp, and a suit of armour that glistened from a corner. It seemed an enchanted room, like a scene from a play, or a dream. Angelica really didn’t worry now about getting the position; it was worth while having come, just to have got inside of this house and this room. The extraordinary lady sat down upon a divan and crossed her long legs. She had a pencil in her hand, and a little notebook, and she was most businesslike. "Your name?" she inquired. "Angelica Kennedy." It wasn’t really Angelica’s name; Kennedy was her mother’s name, but they had both agreed that Donallotti was an impossible and unseemly patronymic, and might cause them to be taken for _foreigners_. "Your age?" "Nineteen." Angelica felt terribly at a disadvantage, standing there to be questioned. She could hear her own voice, rather hoarse, and her vulgar accent. She was conscious of being ungloved, of being awkward and despised. She felt herself lost, she was in despair, she longed to run away and be done with this misery; but the lady went on pleasantly. "Your address?" Her heart sank still lower as she saw written down the obscure and sordid street. "Could you give me any social references?" That finished her. "No!" she said curtly. "Oh! Can’t you?" said the nice voice, disappointed. "What about experience, then? What have you done?" "You said experience was unnecessary." "Yes, I know; but can’t you give me some sort of idea, you know--something about yourself?" Angelica was obstinately silent. "What made you come? What did you think your qualifications were?" the other asked, less pleasantly. "I could be useful," said Angelica sullenly. "I can sew--trim hats--I worked with a milliner once. Whatever else you wanted I could learn, and I wouldn’t expect much pay while I was learning." The lady interrupted her. "How much would you expect?" she asked, with sudden interest.