Tom shook his head. “No,” he said. “Mrs. Mott told me that till that day she had never had much fault to find with her (she’d only been with us for about three weeks), but that she had been sorry to see that she spent all her leisure in reading penny papers, with stories and pictures of men in evening dress and women with trailing robes, all dukes and viscountesses, and pretty girls in shops. She must have spent threepence or fourpence a week on these, Mrs. Mott says, and when she had read them, she tore them up or burnt them. Mrs. Mott had told her she ought to settle to one good magazine and collect a nice stock for bound volumes. “I don’t wonder Mrs. Mott is rather sick of it,” Tom went on, “only I wish she didn’t give up out of feeling so responsible for us. All that we shall gain, as it seems to me, is, most likely, girls quite as irresponsible, and a landlady equally so. Mrs. Mott’s charges have been very moderate—I did not realise how moderate—till I have gone about and seen what is offered for the same money.” “Then you have begun to make inquiries,” said Lucy. “Ay,” answered Tom, rather bitterly, “and I don’t know when I shall leave off or where I shall find myself. I mustn’t go one bit further from the office than Mrs. Mott’s house is. Indeed, that’s rather too far, except that I was there from the first, and knew when I was comfortable. I’ve spoilt two Saturday afternoons going round and asking questions at every house where I saw ‘Furnished Apartments.’ And oh, Mrs. Challoner!”—Tom broke off with an indescribably comic expression of dismay on his good-humoured face. “Did you have some funny experiences?” Lucy questioned. “Didn’t I?” echoed Tom. “The very first place to which I went was in a good street not very far from the office, and the house looked nice on the outside. The door was opened by such a girl!—I don’t know whether she belonged to the family, or was a servant—I should think the former. But she might have been a Fuzzy Wuzzy straight from the Soudan by the look of her hair. It stood straight up all round her head. You couldn’t believe it unless you saw it! And her gown might have been made of dirty dishcloths. The passage looked like a black cavern. I didn’t want to go in, but I didn’t know how to get away. So I asked some questions. I said I wanted a bedroom-sitting-room, and the use of a parlour for meals. She said, ‘There wasn’t no parlour; their gentlemen mostly took their meals out.’ That gave me excuse to say it wouldn’t suit, and I got away.” “Surely that must be a very extravagant arrangement for the gentlemen,” said Lucy.