“Well, write for particulars—and references,” suggested Madge. “No harm in that, at all events.”
Colin pondered heavily.
“I believe the kid has made an illuminating remark,” he said at length. “You don’t commit yourself by writing: perhaps it would be as well to give it a trial. Though I wouldn’t dream of it for a moment if I saw the remotest chance of sending you out of Melbourne in any other way, old white-face!” He put his arm round my shoulders as we went into the dining-room—which was very unusual for Colin, and affected me greatly. I began to wonder was I consumptive or something, but cheered up on remembering that the doctor had said I was “organically sound.”
I wrote my letter, enclosing a testimonial from Dr. Grayson, as to my general worth; he was very kind, and drew so touching a picture of my character and capabilities that I was quite certain in my own mind I could never live up to it. I told him so, after he made me read it, but he would not alter it, and threatened me with all kinds of pains and penalties if I failed to prove every word he had said about me. After that, it seemed scarcely prudent to ask Madame Carr for a letter—the difference between my two “references” might have been too marked. Much to Madge’s disgust, I insisted on telling my prospective employer that I was only eighteen. This excited the gloomiest forebodings in my sister.
“You’ll queer your pitch altogether,” she said. “Eighteen’s awfully young; ten to one she wants an old frump of thirty!”
“Well, if she does, she had better not have me,” said I. “I don’t want her to expect some one old and staid, and then have heart-failure when she sees my extreme youth.”
“Perhaps not,” Madge agreed reluctantly. “Everything depends on first impressions, and I suppose heart-failure wouldn’t be the best possible beginning. Anyhow, you might say that you’re five feet eight and not shingled. That would give her a vision of some one impressive and dignified.”
“Then she might get a different kind of shock,” I said. “But I don’t think we need worry; you may be certain that she’ll have dozens and dozens of applications, and it isn’t a bit likely that she will want me. I’m going to forget all about it, as soon as the letter has gone—and you can look out for other advertisements. It’s foolish to expect to catch your fish the moment you throw in the first bait.”
“I’m not at all certain that I want to catch her,” said Colin gloomily. “It’s not much fun to catch your fish and find you’ve hooked a shark!”