“Then he ought to have known better than to have sent you to a house without making further inquiries. This world is a changeable place, but nothing changes in it more quickly than lodging-houses, at any rate in Kent Street.” “So it seems,” answered Joan sadly; “but now, what am I to do?” “I don’t know, Miss Haste—I think you said Haste was your name; although,” she added nervously, sweeping off her lap some crumbs of the bread and butter that she had been eating, “if I was quite sure that you are respectable I might be able to make a suggestion.” “What suggestion, Mrs. Bird?” “Well, I have two rooms to let here. My last lodger, a most estimable man, and a very clever one too—he was an accountant, my dear—died in them a fortnight ago, and was carried out last Friday; but then, you see, it is not everybody that would suit me as a tenant, and there are many people whom I might not suit. There are three questions to be considered; the question of character, the question of rent, and the question of surroundings. Now, as to the question of character——” “I have a certificate,” broke in Joan mildly, as she produced a document that she had procured from Mr. Biggen, the clergyman at Bradmouth. Mrs. Bird put on a pair of spectacles and perused it carefully. “Satisfactory,” she said, “very satisfactory, presuming it to be genuine; though, mind you, I have known even clergymen to be deceived. Now, would you like to see my references?” “No, thank you, not at all,” said Joan. “I am quite sure that _you_ are respectable.” “How can you be sure of anything of the sort? Well, we will pass over that and come to the rent. My notion of rent for the double furnished room on the first floor, including breakfast, coals, and all extras, is eight shillings and sixpence a week. The late accountant used to pay ten-and-six, but for a woman I take off two shillings; not but what I think, from the look of you, that you would eat more breakfast than the late accountant did.” “That seems very reasonable,” said Joan. “I should be very glad to pay that.” “Yes, my dear, you might be very glad to pay it, but you will excuse me for saying that the desire does not prove the ability. How am I to know that you would pay?” “I have plenty of money,” answered Joan wearily; “I can give you a month’s rent in advance, if you like.” “Plenty of money!” said the little woman, holding up her hands in amazement, “and that _very_ striking appearance! And yet you wander about the world in this fashion! Really, my dear, I do not know what to make of you.” “For the matter of that, Mrs. Bird, I do not quite know what to make of myself. But shall we get on with the business?—because, you see, if we do not come to an agreement, I must search elsewhere. What was it you said about surroundings?”