"Thank you," said Mr. Wycherly, and paused. To get rid of her, he was on the point of saying that he would consider her qualifications and let her know his decision later, when his delicate sense of honour pointed out that such a course would not be quite straightforward dealing. She was a terrible young woman and his fastidious soul revolted from the very thought of the fried-fish shop, but she was young and she was a woman; it would not be fair to let her depart with the impression that she was a likely applicant when nothing on earth could induce him to employ her. "I fear," he added gently, "that you are not quite experienced enough for us here, and therefore I will not trouble your late mistress with inquiries. I am sorry you should have had to come in vain—were you to put any expense?" The girl gave a short laugh. "I’ve only come about half a mile," she said. "I’m sorry I don’t suit you; I think I could be very ’appy in your situation." Poor Mr. Wycherly looked most unhappy. He rose and rang the bell, saying: "Mrs. Dew will show you the way out." He opened the door for her with the gravest courtesy and she creaked downstairs, wondering why she had not demanded at least "’arf a crownd" for expenses. "I’d ’a’ got it too," she thought to herself, "but it never entered me ’ead to say nothin’ to ’im but the plain truth an’ ’im so civil and affable." Mr. Wycherly went back to his chair and reached for a pamphlet dealing with the philosophy of Eubulides, which he thought might be soothing, but he had got no further than the statement that, "in Eubulides positive faith was superseded by delight in his own subtlety," when there came another knock at his door and again Mrs. Dew presented herself. "I beg your pardon, sir, for venturing to intrude upon you," Mrs. Dew said respectfully, "but did you come to any arrangement with the young person?" Mr. Wycherly laid down Eubulides. "Oh, dear, no," he groaned, "she was quite impossible. A most well-meaning girl, I am sure—but——" "I feared so, sir, from her very flashy appearance, but one always hopes they may be better than their looks. Being only temporary I should like to know you’d found someone really suitable." "Look here, Mrs. Dew," said Mr. Wycherly, suddenly taking heart of grace. "Why should you be only temporary? Could you not settle down with us? If you find the work too much when my wards are at home why not get a young girl to help you?" "You’re very kind, sir," said Mrs. Dew, fingering her apron and looking embarrassed, "but you see, I’m not without encumbrances. Husband I’ve none, children I’ve none, but what I have got is a niece and my bits of things. I’m bound to keep a little home for her in the holidays, that’s why I can’t take a permanent situation. You see, no one wants a child of twelve tacked on to a servant for weeks at a time."