"Assuredly. And very well taught too. But whom would be satisfied with a mutton-chop? We aim at something higher. Our scholars are equal to producing _sole à gratin_, or _suprême de volaille_. And you don't require those _plats_ every day of your life, now do you?" "Then, can I have a housemaid?" "I am afraid not. Since music has become one of the recognised branches of study, we do not obtain many candidates for the task of stair-sweeping. And it is not surprising. A girl who can play the piano, or lead a chorus, is surely worthy of a better fate than that which usually falls to the lot of a servant in a middle-class establishment." "I suppose it is useless to ask you if you can give me the name of a boy in buttons?" "Quite. To tell you the truth, we do not encourage such appointments. Our lads are wanted at their studies until they are growing too old to be young pages. Then, when they have reached the required standard their literary attainments entitle them to something superior to the post of a drudge in the pantry." "Then what do you propose doing with your charges?" asked the Ratepayer, who was rapidly becoming resigned to his position. "Well, our _chefs_ must wait until the time arrives when there will be enough clubs and West End hotels to secure the benefit of their services." "And the musicians?" "They, too, at present are rather a drug in the market. But who knows? Some day there may be a huge demand for pianoforte players." "And the literary lads?" "Most admirably adapted for clerkships, but the clerical labour market is as dull as the proverbial ditchwater. Still, things may revive. But for the present they must hope and wait." "And I provide the funds for all this?" cried the Ratepayer. "You do," returned the official promptly. "This year it will be elevenpence halfpenny in the pound, and next probably considerably higher. But then you see--_it is quite worth the money!_" * * * * * A LITTLE HOLIDAY. (_By Our Own Enterprising Explorer._) "Why not go to Amsterdam?" At first sight this conundrum had the customary couple of answers, "No time, no money." But these were incorrect solutions. "My dear Sir," said the Secretary of a Society organised to bring happiness into the humblest home (pronunciation with or without aspirates, according to the taste of the speaker), taking me up smartly, "you can get there in less than no time, remain there less than no time, and be back in less than no time. We can manage that for you." "But the expense?"