"Oh! oh!" cried Hope, aghast. She was torn in twain between elation and pangs of conscience. "How sweet of you, Phil! But--do you think it is quite right?" "Why not? Does not every unknown author implore his friends to ask for his books at their libraries and express untold surprise because they are unknown? Why should not we advertise you in your turn?" "You must be boomed, my dear, or you may wait for ever for an engagement. I was even more bold than Phil," confessed Theo, "for I purposely hung about until other people went into the shop, and then spoke in such a loud voice that they were obliged to hear what I said. They seemed quite interested, and I left one lady reading the circular and asking questions about you. In another shop I said in an anxious voice, `I _hope_ she will be able to come to me when I want her. Will it be necessary to engage her a _long_ time ahead?' The man looked as solemn as an owl, and said, `Well, madam, it would be wise. There is sure to be a rush in the Christmas holidays.' What do you think of that? Won't it be exciting when the letters come in?" There was no doubt about that, but unfortunately no letters arrived; and the weeks passed by, and the Christmas holidays began, and not a mother in the whole Metropolis expressed the slightest desire to engage the services of the "children's charming entertainer." Hope's wistful look each time that the postman's knock came to the door moved her sisters to fresh efforts on her behalf, and an ingeniously worded inquiry was despatched for publication in the pages of a popular fashion magazine: "Can any lady recommend a new form of entertainment for a children's party? No lanterns, conjurers, or marionettes. Early answer much appreciated." An early answer was, in fact, in readiness from the hour when the inquiry was posted, wherein Theo was prepared to certify that, having heard Miss Hope Charrington's entertainment (at the mission-room of Saint Paul's Church!), she was able most enthusiastically to recommend it to all mothers and guardians. Alas! the all-important inquiry was one of many more "unavoidably delayed through want of space," and how to reply to an advertisement which had never appeared was a problem which baffled even Madge's ingenuity. "I shall go to see Minnie Caldecott this afternoon," announced Hope one Tuesday morning when the post had produced nothing more inspiring than a couple of circulars and a coal-bill. "I can't sit here any longer doing nothing, and it is evidently no use writing to her. I have not even heard if the song arrived. Would any one like to come with me and get a peep into professional life?--Theo?"