"I do want a good breakfast," she said to herself dolefully, for a few mouthfuls of the doubtful bread and butter provided by Arabella had more than satisfied her in "The Pictur Gallery". Looking down the road towards Kensington, she saw that shops seemed to abound, and she proceeded to walk on. At length she came to a tea-shop, which she entered. There she ordered tea and a couple of poached eggs. These she consumed at a small round table drawn invitingly near a bright fire, where she was able to dry her boots and where she passed a very comfortable half-hour. But it was all unreal. Once more she had the weird feeling that she was a character in a play and that she would soon awaken to the reality of things. After her experience in Westbourne Terrace she decided that, instead of calling at any more private addresses, she would go to some of the employment agents, who, judging from their advertisements, seemed to possess particulars of every conceivable kind of opening. She would there give a true account of her meagre accomplishments and candidly inquire what was their market value. She did not shrink from doing this, because all her life long she had been facing things and making the best of untoward circumstances. But, somehow, it was difficult here in London. In Glenogle all was familiar and most dear. Besides, whatever the state of the exchequer, Miss Mackinnon of Achree had an unassailable position. Her name counted for nothing here, however. Nay, it were better perhaps that she should exchange it for one less pretentious and betraying. The rain having ceased, she rode on the top of an omnibus the whole length of the Bayswater Road to Oxford Street, where she presented herself in the office of one of the well-known employment agencies that advertise extensively in all the newspapers. She had to wait some little time among others, and when her turn came she was again in thrall to the odd feeling of unreality which had possessed her for most of the day. "What kind of post, madam, and what experience?" said the very middle-aged lady who sat, pen in hand, ready to take the particulars. Isla explained as clearly as possible what she wanted, and she did not fail to observe that while she was speaking the face of her questioner fell. While she was listening she was, however, observing Isla keenly, and she very quickly came to the conclusion that she was not one of the ordinary applicants, but rather was one who had been driven into the ranks of the workers by stress of circumstances.