On the third morning after the interview with the French count’s daughter, as Mr. and Mrs. Dainty and Uncle John sat talking together on the governess-question, the waiter opened the door, and said that a young woman wished to speak with Mrs. Dainty. “Who is she, and what does she want?” inquired Mrs. Dainty, with an air of indifference, stroking the head of her King Charles spaniel, which, instead of her baby, occupied a comfortable position in her lap. The servant went down to gain what information he could from the visitor touching her business with Mrs. Dainty, and returned with the information that she was an applicant for the situation of governess in the family, having been informed that the lady wanted a person in that capacity. “Tell her to come up,” said Mrs. Dainty. “I wonder who she can be?” was added, as the servant withdrew. Uncle John sat with his chin resting on the head of his cane, apparently so much engaged with his own thoughts as to be unconscious of what was passing. In a few minutes the door reopened, and a young woman in plain attire, and of modest, almost timid aspect, entered. Mr. Dainty was standing with his back to the fire; Mrs. Dainty sat in her morning wrapper, with the King Charles spaniel still in comfortable quarters; and Uncle John remained in the same position, not stirring as the girl entered. “Take a chair,” said Mrs. Dainty, with that supercilious indifference which imagined superiority often puts on toward imagined inferiors. The girl flushed, trembled, and sat down, letting her eyes fall to the floor. “What is your name?” asked Mrs. Dainty. “Florence Harper,” replied the girl. “Where do you live?” “At No. — Elwood Street.” “With whom?” “My aunt.” “Are your father and mother living?” “No, ma’am.” Even Mrs. Dainty felt the sadness with which this reply was made. “I am in want of a governess for my children,” said Mrs. Dainty, coldly; “but I hardly think you will suit.” The young girl arose at once. “Sit down.” Mrs. Dainty spoke with a slight impatience. The visitor resumed her chair, while Mr. Dainty kept his place before the fire, with his eyes fixed upon her curiously. “Do you speak French?” inquired Mrs. Dainty. “Yes, ma’am.” “What French school did you attend?” “I was with Mr. Picot for six years.” “Indeed!” There was a new interest in Mrs. Dainty’s voice. “How is it in regard to your musical qualifications?” she continued. “I will satisfy you, madam,” said the applicant, in a quiet but firm and dignified manner, “in regard to my ability to teach the various branches of a polite education, by references, if you desire them.” “Oh, certainly! I shall expect references, of course. You don’t imagine that I would take an entire stranger into my house without the most rigid inquiries touching her character?” Miss Harper arose. “Do you wish,” said she, “to make any inquiries about me? Or have you concluded that I will not suit you?”