After this she went out herself to apply at the printer's, and was sent from there to Brabazon Lodge, which was a suburban establishment, in a chilly aristocratic quarter. An imposing edifice, Brabazon Lodge, built of stone, and most uncompromisingly devoid of superfluous ornament. No mock minarets or unstable towers at Brabazon Lodge,--a substantial mansion in a substantial garden behind substantial iron gates, and so solid in its appointments that it was quite a task for Dolly to raise the substantial lion's head which formed the front-door knocker. “Wanted, a young person,” she was saying to herself, meekly, when her summons was answered by a man-servant, and she barely escaped announcing herself as “the young person, sir.” Once inside the house, she was not kept waiting. She was ushered into a well-appointed side-room, where a bright fire burned in the grate. The man retired to make known her arrival to his mistress, and Dolly settled herself in a chair by the hearth. “I wonder how many 'young persons' have been sent away sorrowing this morning,” she said, “and I wonder how Griffith will like the idea of my filling the position of companion to an elderly lady, or any other order of lady, for the matter of that? Poor old fellow!” and she gave vent to an unmistakable sigh. But the appearance of the elderly lady put an end to her regrets. The door opened and she entered, and Dolly rose to receive her. The next instant, however, she gave a little start. She had seen the elderly lady before, and confronting her now recognized her at once,--Miss Berenice MacDowlas. And that Miss MacDowlas recognized her also was quite evident, for she advanced with the air of one who was not at all at a loss. “How do you do?” she remarked, succinctly, and gave Dolly her hand. That young person took it modestly. “I believe I have had the pleasure--” she was beginning, when Miss MacDowlas interrupted her. “You met me at the Bilberrys',” she said. “I remember seeing you very well. You are Dorothea Crewe.” Dolly bowed in her most insinuatingly graceful manner. “Take a seat,” said Miss MacDowlas. Dolly did so at once. Miss MacDowlas looked at her with the air of an elderly lady who was not displeased. “I remember you very well,” she repeated. “You were governess there. Why did you leave?” Dolly did not know very definitely, and told her so. The notice given her had been unexpected. Lady Augusta had said it was because her pupils were old enough to be sent from home. “Oh!” said Miss MacDowlas, and looked at her again from her hat to her shoes. “You are fond of reading?” she asked next “Yes,” answered Dolly. “You read French well?” “Yes,” said Dolly. She knew she need not hesitate to say that, at least. “You are good company and are fond of society?” “I am fond of society,” said Dolly, “and I hope I am 'good company,'” “You don't easily lose patience?” “It depends upon circumstances,” said Dolly. “You can play and sing?”