"Quite. To tell you the truth, we do not encourage such appointments. Our lads are wanted at their studies until they are growing too old to be young pages. Then, when they have reached the required standard their literary attainments entitle them to something superior to the post of a drudge in the pantry."
"Then what do you propose doing with your charges?" asked the Ratepayer, who was rapidly becoming resigned to his position.
"Well, our chefs must wait until the time arrives when there will be enough clubs and West End hotels to secure the benefit of their services."
"And the musicians?"
"They, too, at present are rather a drug in the market. But who knows? Some day there may be a huge demand for pianoforte players."
"And the literary lads?"
"Most admirably adapted for clerkships, but the clerical labour market is as dull as the proverbial ditchwater. Still, things may revive. But for the present they must hope and wait."
"And I provide the funds for all this?" cried the Ratepayer.
"You do," returned the official promptly. "This year it will be elevenpence halfpenny in the pound, and next probably considerably higher. But then you see—it is quite worth the money!"