“Yes, dear, I know it. ‘It is a long lane that has no turning,’ and the worst of it is that when the lane does turn it doesn’t always turn into
‘Fresh fields and pastures green,’
but into some dusty highway a deal harder to travel than was the long lane itself! But there! I ought not to have said that. I don’t want to discourage you, dearie,” suddenly said Aunt Sophie, with a qualm of compunction.
“I saw an advertisement in this morning’s Pursuivant that pleased me and that I have answered. I have brought my answer to drop it into the post. But I scarcely hope that anything will come of it.”
“What was it for, dearie?”
“A companion for a widow going abroad. The applicant must be a young lady, healthy, agreeable, well educated, competent to speak French, Italian and Spanish. Oh, I have all the list of requirements at my fingers’ ends, you see.”
Aunt Sophie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, to the great annoyance of other foot-passengers, and stared in mild wonder at her companion.
“Now, where in all this wide world do that widow expect to find a young lady, accomplished as all that comes to, who is in need to go out and get her living?” she inquired.
“Oh, dear Aunt Sophie, there are many, many among the impoverished children of the South who, in the days of their prosperity, had received such education.”
“And do you think you would suit, my dear?”