"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.