“Extremely so,” answered Fräulein Hirsch. “Hélène is a most lovable and affectionate girl. And Lady Etynge is rich enough to pay a large salary. Hélène is her idol. The suite of rooms is perfect. In Germany, girls are not spoiled in that way. It is not considered good for them.” It was quite natural, since she felt an interest in Hélène, that, on their next meeting, Robin should find pleasure in sitting on the green bench near the girl’s mother and hear her speak of her daughter. She was not diffuse or intimate in her manner. Hélène first appeared in the talk as a result of a polite inquiry made by Fräulein Hirsch. Robin gathered, as she listened, that this particular girl was a tenderly loved and cared for creature and was herself gentle and intelligent and loving. She sounded like the kind of a girl one would be glad to have for a friend. Robin wondered and wondered—if she would “do.” Perhaps, out of tactful consideration for the feelings of Fräulein Hirsch who would not “do”—because she was neither bright, nor pretty, nor a girl—Lady Etynge touched but lightly on her idea that she might find a sort of sublimated young companion for her daughter. “It would be difficult to advertise for what one wants,” she said. “Yes. To state that a girl must be clever and pretty and graceful, and attractive, would make it difficult for a modest young lady to write a suitable reply,” said Fräulein Hirsch grimly, and both Lady Etynge and Robin smiled. “Among your own friends,” Lady Etynge said to Robin, a little pathetically in her yearning, “do you know of anyone—who might know of anyone who would fit in? Sometimes there are poor little cousins, you know?” “Or girls who have an independent spirit and would like to support themselves,” said the Fräulein. “There are such girls in these advanced times.” “I am afraid I don’t know anyone,” answered Robin. Modesty also prevented her from saying that she thought she did. She herself was well educated, she was good tempered and well bred, and she had known for some time that she was pretty. “Perhaps Fräulein Hirsch may bring you in to have tea with me some afternoon when you are out,” Lady Etynge said kindly before she left them. “I think you would like to see Hélène’s rooms. I should be glad to hear what another girl thinks of them.” Robin was delighted. Perhaps this was a way opening to her. She talked to Mademoiselle Vallé about it and so glowed with hope that Mademoiselle’s heart was moved. “Do you think I might go?” she said. “Do you think there is any chance that I might be the right person? _Am_ I nice enough—and well enough educated, and _are_ my manners good?” She did not know exactly where Lady Etynge lived, but believed it was one of those big houses in a certain dignified “Place” they both knew—a corner house, she was sure, because—by mere chance—she had one day seen Lady Etynge go into such a house as if it were her own. She did not know the number, but they could ask Fräulein.