To her astonishment, she found the man vulgar; yet almost his first comment had a strange note of good-taste that as much surprised her: “Miss Modeyne,” said he, “that Mr. Bartholomew Doome should recommend you is alone good enough for me.... But”--he hesitated, a little embarrassed, and added with an effort--“I’m a rough man, and I hope I don’t make you misunderstand me, but I have two girls, and I want you to be with them and leaven them with your pretty ways; and if you will allow me to do it in my own way, I would rather you did not enter this house as a companion or a governess, for the girls would--take--well, they would take the wrong way with you. If you would enter my house as the daughter of a friend of friends of mine, come for a long visit, I would pay you your fees without its being known to them or anyone, and I think you yourself would be in a better and pleasanter position.” Betty thought over the scheme for a while; her strict code of honour made her consider only the other value--of what she was giving in return. “Yes,” she said--“perhaps it would be best.... May I see the--girls, first?” Pompey Malahide moved eagerly towards the bell, hesitated--came back: “I’m real glad to think it, Miss Modeyne,” said he; “but look here, there’s another thing. I don’t want any schooling for them. They are as old as you are, the more’s the pity--both gals have got their hair up.... Ah,” he sighed, “you would have been the making of ’em five years ago; you see”--he sighed again, sadly--“they’ve modelled themselves a bit on me now.... Their mother never comes out of her boudoir. But what I was going to say was this: you can tell ’em what’s bad manners, and go with them to picture-galleries and show them the good things, can’t ye? and all that!” Betty smiled: “I think I can do that,” she said simply. He nodded: “That’s right. I like to hear a gal say the name of the fellow who did a picture without lookin’ at the catalogue. And all that sort of thing.... Make the girls smart, and knock some sense into them.... They’re as good as gold--real warm-hearted good gals. But they want style. And you can spare them a ton of it--if you’ll excuse a rough and rather vulgar fellow tellin’ you so.” Betty laughed. “I think I should like to see the girls now,” she said, “before we decide.” “Come along, bless ye,” said he, bustling to the door, and walking out first. “Judith!” he bawled--“Mary!” A girl’s voice called back: “Why do you bawl, father? Aren’t there servants enough?” A door opened, and two young women entered the hall.