"I am here by your appointment, madam, made with me a week ago," said the young lady. "This is Thursday."
"What name?" cried Mrs. Moffit sharply, turning over rapidly the leaves of a ledger.
"Miss West. If you remember, I—"
"Oh, yes, child, my memory's good enough," was the tart interruption. "But with so many applicants it's impossible to be at any certainty as to faces. Registered names we can't mistake."
Mrs. Moffit read her notes—taken down a week ago. "Miss West. Educated in first-class school at Richmond; remained in it as teacher. Very good references from the ladies keeping it. Father, Colonel in India."
"But—"
"You do not wish to go into a school again?" spoke Mrs. Moffit, closing the ledger with a snap, and peremptorily drowning what the applicant was about to say.
"Oh, dear, no, I am only leaving to better myself, as the maids say," replied the young lady smiling.
"And you wish for a good salary?"
"If I can get it. One does not care to work hard for next to nothing."