“How are you feelin’, Florence?” he asked; he had given up saying Miss Florence at her request. “Here’s an advertisement that’ll maybe suit you.”
“Show it to me, Dodger,” said Florence, beginning to show some interest.
The boy directed her attention to the following advertisement:
“Wanted.—A governess for a girl of twelve. Must be a good performer on the piano, and able to instruct in French and the usual English branches. Terms must be moderate. Apply to Mrs. Leighton, at 127 W. —— Street.”
“There, Florence, what do you say to that? That’s better than sewin’.”
“I don’t know, Dodger, whether I am competent.”
“You play on the pianner, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well enough to teach?”
“I think so; but I may not have the gift of teaching.”