"But I can't teach any of those things!" "Look here," said Blendershin, and paused. "Has your wife or you a private income?" "No," said Lewisham. "Well?" A pause of further moral descent, and a whack against an obstacle. "But they will find me out," said Lewisham. Blendershin smiled. "It's not so much ability as willingness to teach, you know. And _they_ won't find you out. The sort of schoolmaster we deal with can't find anything out. He can't teach any of these things himself--and consequently he doesn't believe they _can_ be taught. Talk to him of pedagogics and he talks of practical experience. But he puts 'em on his prospectus, you know, and he wants 'em on his time-table. Some of these subjects--There's commercial geography, for instance. What _is_ commercial geography?" "Barilla," said the assistant, biting the end of his pen, and added pensively, "_and_ blethers." "Fad," said Blendershin, "Just fad. Newspapers talk rot about commercial education, Duke of Devonshire catches on and talks ditto--pretends he thought it himself--much _he_ cares--parents get hold of it--schoolmasters obliged to put something down, consequently assistants must. And that's the end of the matter!" "_All_ right," said Lewisham, catching his breath in a faint sob of shame, "Stick 'em down. But mind--a non-resident place." "Well," said Blendershin, "your science may pull you through. But I tell you it's hard. Some grant-earning grammar school may want that. And that's about all, I think. Make a note of the address...." The assistant made a noise, something between a whistle and the word "Fee." Blendershin glanced at Lewisham and nodded doubtfully. "Fee for booking," said the assistant; "half a crown, postage--in advance--half a crown." But Lewisham remembered certain advice Dunkerley had given him in the old Whortley days. He hesitated. "No," he said. "I don't pay that. If you get me anything there's the commission--if you don't--" "We lose," supplied the assistant. "And you ought to," said Lewisham. "It's a fair game." "Living in London?" asked Blendershin. "Yes," said the clerk. "That's all right," said Mr. Blendershin. "We won't say anything about the postage in that case. Of course it's the off season, and you mustn't expect anything at present very much. Sometimes there's a shift or so at Easter.... There's nothing more.... Afternoon. Anyone else, Binks?" Messrs. Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums did a higher class of work than Blendershin, whose specialities were lower class private establishments and the cheaper sort of endowed schools. Indeed, so superior were Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums that they enraged Lewisham by refusing at first to put him on their books. He was interviewed briefly by a young man dressed and speaking with offensive precision, whose eye adhered rigidly to the waterproof collar throughout the interview.