"Of course, madam," she said kindly but with great brevity and decision, "you are not unaware that you are handicapped? Our books"--here she patted an immense ledger lying on the table beside her--"our books are full of names of ladies requiring employment, and most of these are very thoroughly equipped. But, even with all the resources at our command, we would never be able to supply all their wants, for the very simple reason that the necessary vacancies do not exist." "There are so many thousands seeking situations, then?" said Isla hesitatingly. "Thousands. We have no difficulty with our skilled workers. There is always a demand for them, but for the gentlewoman class--to which you evidently belong--for whom the earning of a living has become a sad necessity, we have practically no demand. You are a good housekeeper, you say, but you would not care to take a working-housekeeper’s place?" "I could not. At least, I should not care to do actual housework, and I can only cook theoretically. I could order a lady’s house, and order it well. I’ve been used until quite lately to superintend a fairly large establishment." "In your father’s house?" said the agent with an understanding nod. "Yes." "I thought as much. Well, I have only one post on my books at present which would seem to come anywhere near your requirements, and I tell you quite frankly that I have already sent at least half a dozen ladies after it." "Where is it?" asked Isla interestedly, "and what sort of a place is it?" "It is to be a sort of companion-housekeeper to a lady who is not strong. The duties, I think, are not very arduous, but I consider it only right to tell you that this is the fourth time in twelve months that this post has become vacant." "Why has it been like that?" "I prefer not to enter into reasons. There have always been faults on both sides, of course. I have myself interviewed Mrs. Bodley-Chard here when she was able to drive out. Latterly, I think, she has not been able. I have always liked her. I’m afraid that the trouble is with Mr. Bodley-Chard." "Oh, I shouldn’t mind him," said Isla quietly. "And, after all, his wife’s housekeeper need not see much of him." The agent smiled. "I can give you the address if you like. You will be the third who has gone to-day. But that, I think, does not matter. Mrs. Chard, I know, intends to be very, very particular this time." "What is the salary?" "Twenty-five pounds a year." "And to live in the house?" "Why, of course." "She would not engage a person who wished to lodge outside?" "My dear madam, picture a companion-housekeeper who arrived with the milk--shall we say?--and left with the last post at night! It’s unpractical, to say the least." Isla smiled and sighed a little as she rose.