“Then I accept it, sir, and I am much obliged to you.”
“There is one small provision in Dr. McCarthy’s letter. He stipulates that the applicant must be a man with an imperturbably good temper.”
“I am the very man,” said I, with conviction.
“Well,” said Mr. Lumsden, with some hesitation, “I hope that your temper is really as good as you say, for I rather fancy that you may need it.”
“I presume that every elementary schoolmaster does.”
“Yes, sir, but it is only fair to you to warn you that there may be some especially trying circumstances in this particular situation. Dr. Phelps McCarthy does not make such a condition without some very good and pressing reason.”
There was a certain solemnity in his speech which struck a chill in the delight with which I had welcomed this providential vacancy.
“May I ask the nature of these circumstances?” I asked.
“We endeavour to hold the balance equally between our clients, and to be perfectly frank with all of them. If I knew of objections to you I should certainly communicate them to Dr. McCarthy, and so I have no hesitation in doing as much for you. I find,” he continued, glancing over the pages of his ledger, “that within the last twelve months we have supplied no fewer than seven Latin masters to Willow Lea House Academy, four of them having left so abruptly as to forfeit their month’s salary, and none of them having stayed more than eight weeks.”
“And the other masters? Have they stayed?”