"Yes, he _is_ mighty clever with those he likes," replied Mrs. Burke--Jessie looking at me to make sure I would note Mrs. Burke's "provincial" way of using the word clever. Jessie saved the luncheon--or, at least, thought she was saving it. Mrs. Burke and I had only to listen and eat. I caught her looking at me several times, and then I saw shrewdness in her eyes--good-natured, but none the less penetrating for that. And I knew I should like her, and should get on with her. At last our eyes met and we both smiled. After that she somehow seemed less crowded and foreign in her tight, fine clothes. I saw she was impatient for Jessie to go the moment luncheon was over, but it was nearly three o'clock before we were left alone together. There fell an embarrassed silence--for both of us were painfully conscious that nothing had really been settled. "When do you wish me to come--if you do wish it at all?" I asked, by way of making a beginning. "When do you think you could come?" she inquired nervously. "Then you do wish to give me a trial? I hope you won't feel that Mrs. Carteret's precipitate way binds you." She gave me a shrewd, good-natured look. "I want you to come," she said. "I wanted it from what I'd heard of you--I and Mr. Burke. I want it more than ever, now that I've seen you. When can you come?" "To-morrow--to-morrow morning?" "Come as early as you like. The salary is--is satisfactory?" "Mrs. Carteret said--but I'm sure--you can judge better--whatever--" I stuttered, red as fire. Mrs. Burke laughed. "I can see you ain't a great hand at business. The salary is two thousand a year, with a three months' vacation in the time we're not at Washington. Always have a plain understanding in money matters--it saves a lot of mean feelings and quarrels." "Very well--whatever you think. I don't believe I'm worth much of anything until I've had a chance to show what I can do." "Well, Tom--Mr. Burke--said two thousand would be about right at the set-off," she drawled in her calming tone. "So we'll consider that settled." "Yes," I gasped, with a big sigh of relief. "I suppose you wish me to take charge of your social matters--relieve you of the burdensome part of entertaining?" "I just wish you could," she said, with a great deal of humor in her slow voice. "But I've got to keep that--it's the trying to make people have a good time and not look and act as if they were wondering why they'd come." "That'll soon wear off," said I. "Most of the stiffness is strangeness on both sides, don't you think?" "I don't know. As nearly as I can make out, they never had a real, natural good time in their lives. They wear the Sunday, go-to-meeting clothes and manners the whole seven days. I'll never get used to it. I can't talk that kind of talk. And if I was just plain and natural, they'd think I was stark crazy." "Did you ever try?" She lifted her hands in mock-horror. "Mercy, no! Tom--Mr. Burke--warned me."