"Up in Mount Pleasant Street, Number 53. First-class place, and plenty of privileges. Margaret McKay," she continued, to another, "you're too hard to please. Here's one more place"--handing her a card with address--"and if you don't take that, I won't do nothing more for you, if you _air_ Scotch and a Protestant! Mary McGinnis, it's no use your talking to that lady from the country. She can't spare you to come down but twice or so a year." "Lord!" ejaculated Mary McGinnis, "I wouldn't live a whole year with no lady that ever was, let alone the country!" "Come out, Faith!" said Miss Henderson, in a deep, ineffable tone of disgust. "If _that's_ a genteel West End Intelligence Office," cried Aunt Faith, as she touched the sidewalk, "let's go downtown and try some of the common ones." A large hall--where the candidates were ranged on settees under order and restraint, and the superintendent, or directress, occupied a desk placed upon a platform near the entrance--was the next scene whereon Miss Henderson and Faith Gartney entered. Things looked clean and respectable. System obtained here. Aunt Faith felt encouraged. But she made no haste to utter her business. Tall, self-possessed, and dignified, she stood a few paces inside the door, and looked down the apartment, surveying coolly the faces there, and analyzing, by a shrewd mental process, their indications. Her niece had stopped a moment on the landing outside to fasten her boot lace. Miss Henderson did not wear hoops. Also, the streets being sloppy, she had tucked up her plain, gray merino dress over a quilted black alpaca petticoat. Her boots were splashed, and her black silk bonnet was covered with a large gray barege veil, tied down over it to protect it from the dripping roofs. Judging merely by exterior, one would hardly take her at a glance, indeed, for a "fust-class" lady. The directress--a busy woman, with only half a glance to spare for anyone--moved toward her. "Take a seat, if you please. What kind of a place do you want?" Aunt Faith turned full face upon her, with a look that was prepared to be overwhelming. "I'm looking for a place, ma'am, where I can find a respectable girl." Her firm, emphatic utterance was heard to the farthest end of the hall. The girls tittered. Faith Gartney came in at this moment, and walked up quietly to Miss Henderson's side. There was visibly a new impression made, and the tittering ceased. "I beg pardon, ma'am. I see. But we have so many in, and I didn't fairly look. General housework?" "Yes; general and particular--both. Whatever I set her to do." The directress turned toward the throng of faces whose fire of eyes was now all concentrated on the unflinching countenance of Miss Henderson. "Ellen Mahoney!" A stout, well-looking damsel, with an expression that seemed to say she answered to her name, but was nevertheless persuaded of the utter uselessness of the movement, half rose from her seat.