lady without a husband like, why, you see, the
valer like would go down, it would. Not but
what you is most 'spectable, Sir John, and if
you wished the 'ouse for Lady Milson it would
be quite another affair. But the landlord, he
don't like letting parties that has not got a
name like, 'aving 'is 'ouse. You'll 'scuse me,
Sir John, but if you took a look round St. John
Wood's way, I think you would be more like to
soot yourself." It is hardly necessary to say
that Sir John did not "take a look St. John
Wood's way," and that he did not trouble that
house-agent any further.

But even with the house secured were his
troubles ended? By no means. He asked
his tailor—he was half afraid and half ashamed
to ask any of his friends—where he could get
a small house furnished throughout, and the
snip smiled, and, in recommending him to an
upholsterer, said, "I quite understand what
you mean, Sir John." And when he went to
see the upholsterer, the miscreant behaved in
exactly the same way. "Quite so, Sir John.
I see exactly what you wish, Sir John. A ten-
roomed house, furnished neatly, and with every
luxury. I did the same for Lord Epsom last
week, Sir John. A matter, I should say, of
four hundred pounds, or it may be a trifle
more." And the fellow smiled a knowing
smile, as much as to say, "I know all about
it, but you are quite safe in my hands."

At last the house at Kensington was got and
furnished, but as yet the governess had not been
engaged; although, if all went well, the "old
gunner's" daughters might be expected at
Southampton in about six weeks. Not that
there were no answers to the advertisement
which heads this chapter. On the contrary,
there were many; but the difficulty was how or
where to see those ladies whose references and
antecedents made them at all eligible for the
situation. One lady, writing to "J.M., at the
Oriental Club," said that she was forty-five
years of age, that she was a Frenchwoman, had
a good knowledge of English, was a Roman
Catholic, and had been a governess for twelve
years, during which time she had lived in three
families, and that she could give references to
her last situation, which was in Lord Eastcheap's
family, she having only left his lordship's
daughters when the last of them had gone
out in the world. This was an opportunity
which Sir John would at once have seized upon,
but that the very excellence of the references
debarred him from so doing. He knew Lord
and Lady Eastcheap very well. He knew that
their three daughters were exceedingly well-
brought-up girls, and he was perfectly certain
that any governess recommended by that family
would be exactly the sort of person to whom,
of all others, he would like to entrust his old
friend's daughters. But he could not take any
steps in the matter. He felt quite certain that
if he wrote or spoke to either Lord or Lady
Eastcheap on the subject, that either one or the
other would speak to Lady Milson the first
time they met, and ask whether Sir John's
friends had engaged the governess that had
lived in their family. Thus, in the same way
that his own respectability made it difficult for
him to hire a house without others believing
that he was doing those things which he ought
not to have done, the good reference of this
governess made it all the more difficult for him
to engage her. Then, again, the advertisement
which he had put in the Post not unnaturally
attracted the attention of some of the old boys
at the Oriental; and Clogson, formerly
accountant-general in Orissa, offered the hall porter
a sovereign to tell him who "J.M." was.
That functionary, to his honour be it said, did
not betray Sir John, and declared that he did
not know anything about the letters. But
Clogson was not to be put off. He watched
day after day in the hall of the club, until he
saw Sir John Milson take up the little packet
of letters addressed in ladies' handwriting to
"J.M.," and then he commenced a series of
mild jokes about "sly dogs," of married men
having their little weaknesses, and of "nice
goings on which men's wives ought to be told
of," until poor Sir John was driven half mad,
and almost made a vow that he would go off to
the Land's End, and leave the young ladies to
shift for themselves when they arrived in
England. At last he succeeded in hearing of a
lady whom he thought would suit, and whose
reference was to a lady in the north of England,
of whom neither he nor his wife knew anything.
Moreover, the reference proved most
satisfactory; and so, after dodging about for some
days—giving the governess appointments in
confectioners' shops, in railway waiting-rooms,
and in all sorts of odd out-of-the-way places—
he engaged her, and duly installed her in the
small house at Kensington, there to await the
arrival of her future pupils.

But before the advent of those young ladies,
poor Sir John got into trouble, for the first time
in his married life, with his wife. Lady Milson
had a sort of unattached female aide-de-camp,
who came and went to and from the house like
a tame dog. This was a lady somewhat
advanced in years, whose husband had once
been "a highly respectable merchant in the
City," but who was now bankrupt in business,
insolvent in purse, and broken down in spirit.
Mrs. Morris had become acquainted with Annie
at some "Ladies'- Poor- District-Visiting- Aid
Society's" meeting, and had impressed the
rich Anglo-Indian's wife with a feeling of
compassion for Mr. Morris's poverty. Owing to
Lady Milson's representations, Sir John had
used his interest to obtain appointments in
the Indian public works and telegraph departments
for Mr. Morris's two sons, and in return
for his kindness Mrs. Morris had by degrees
worked herself into being a sort of private
secretary, and public toady of Annie. Like all
ladies who have lived much in India, the latter
was terribly wanting in energy, and was only
too glad to be saved trouble by an unpaid lady
"help," who took messages to her dressmaker,
found out where the best and cheapest tea was