Kate hesitated. “I don’t quite understand. I can feed pigs, bake, and milk. Is it anything to do with that?”
“No; as far as I can make out, it has to do with electioneering.”
“Then I’ll have nothing to say to it. Go on to the next.”
“‘Bake,’ you said. Then here goes. ‘Wanted at once, a man well up in smalls. State salary.’”
“But I’m not a man. Is there nothing that will suit me?”
“Here is something new,” said Jack, and he began to laugh. “‘Matrimony.—Bachelor, tall, handsome, healthy, good social position, possessing gold mines, and £2000 per annum, wishes to meet with a lady with view to marriage. Send full particulars. State age. Send photo. Thoroughly genuine.’”
“That’s the situation for me, to a hair! Do answer, Jack. I’m twenty-one.”
“But the photo?”
“I have none.”
“Then what is the good of answering? There will be such a run on this gentleman.”