“‘“I think,” said Anne, “it depends a good deal on the party she’s going to take.”
“‘“It certainly does,” I agreed.
“‘“Well,” said the man again, “it’s an easy party. There’s a professor who’s nearly eighty, and who’s wanted all his life to go to Athens; 85 and a minister who’s trying to discover the exact spot where Paul preached to the Athenians; and a couple of teachers who are something like Miss Green, I think—about that type, you know. They’re terribly interested in the temples on the Acropolis.”
“‘“Miss Green then is certainly the woman for you, sir,” I announced, feeling like an Employment Bureau. “She’s steeped in the Ancient World! She dotes on Rameses and the Pharaohs and the Tarquins and Solon; and she knows more about every one of them than she knows about—us, for instance.”
“‘“I see,” said the man.
“‘“The only reason we hesitated for a moment,” added Anne, “was because we thought the party might be composed of young people, and, you see, Miss Green has never specialized to any great extent in—in—young life!”
“‘“I understand perfectly,” said our benefactor. “I guess I’ll run along, young ladies. She might be in my office. Get your tickets from the man in the red cap at the largest window 86 over there. He speaks English. Your train will reach Berlin at seven. It’s on track four. Don’t thank me at all. I’m indebted to you. Won’t you walk to the office and see Miss Green? She’d be delighted, I’m sure!”
“‘Anne answered for us. “No, thank you,” she said. “I’m afraid we can’t. We haven’t had breakfast yet, and we must telegraph my mother. She’ll expect us earlier. Yes, thank you, I’m sure we can manage quite well alone. Give Miss Green our best regards. I’m sure we hope she’ll be successful.”
“‘He shook hands all around.
“‘“You really think,” asked Jess, a little worried in tone, I thought, “you really think it’s likely to be a job for life?”