“Oh, darling, you really mustn’t be so terribly ingenious. You quite frighten me. And what am I going to do about you next week when the dear Kinos will be gone?” CHAPTER XVI BLACKBOY PASSAGE As Nancy had anticipated, Miss Fewkes was more than doubtful about her ability to keep an eye on Letizia while her mother was haunting the offices of theatrical agents. “I’m not really at all used to children,” she sniffed angrily. “Supposing if she was to take it into her silly little head to go and jump out of the window? There’s no knowing what some children won’t do next. Then of course you’d blame _me_. I’ve always been very nervous of children. I could have been married half-a-dozen times if I hadn’t have dreaded the idea of having children of my own, knowing how nervous they’d be sure to make me.” “I wondered if perhaps Louisa might be glad to keep an eye on her, that is, of course, if you’d let me give her a little present. It probably won’t be for more than a week.” It certainly wouldn’t, Nancy thought, at the rate her money was going, for she could not imagine herself owing a halfpenny to Miss Fewkes. And even that little present to Louisa, the maid-of-all-work, would necessitate a first visit to the nearest pawnbroker. “Louisa has quite enough to do to keep her busy without looking after the children of my lodgers,” the landlady snapped. Poor Louisa certainly had, Nancy admitted to herself guiltily, at the mental vision of the overworked maid toiling up and downstairs all day at Miss Fewkes’s behest. “I don’t see why you don’t take her out with you,” said the landlady acidly. “Oh, Miss Fewkes, surely you know something of theatrical agents!” Nancy exclaimed. “How could I possibly drag Letizia round with me? No, I’ll just leave her in my room. She’ll be perfectly good, I’m sure. And while we are on the subject of room, Miss Fewkes, will you let me know how much you will charge me for the bedroom only, as I shan’t be wanting the sitting-room after this week.” “Oh, but I don’t particularly care to let the bedroom by itself,” Miss Fewkes objected. “I haven’t another bedroom vacant, and what use would the sitting-room be to anybody by itself? Perhaps you’d prefer to give up both rooms?” Nancy hesitated. Then she plunged. “Certainly, Miss Fewkes. I really wanted to give them up some time ago. They’re very expensive and very uncomfortable, and not overclean.” “Well, I shan’t argue about it, Miss O’Finn,” said Miss Fewkes haughtily. “Because I wouldn’t soil my lips by saying what I think of a person who behaves like you do. But I do know a little about the prerfession, having been in it myself, and if you _are_ what you pretend to be, which I don’t think, all I can say is the prerfession has changed for the worse since my day.” With this she snapped out of the room, as a little wooden cuckoo snaps back into his clock. Nancy sat down and wrote to Mrs. Pottage.