"First, however, call me Miss Kennedy here; pray—pray, do not forget that there is no Miss Messenger nearer than Portman Square."
"I will try to remember."
"I came here," she went on, "last July, having a certain problem in my mind. I have remained here ever since, working at that problem. It is not nearly worked out yet, nor do I think that in the longest life it could be worked out. It is a most wonderful problem, for one thing leads to another, and great schemes rise out of small, and there are hundreds of plans springing out of one—if I could only carry them out."
"To assist you in carrying them out, you have secured the services of my ward, I learn."
"Yes; he has been very good to me."
"I have never," said Lord Jocelyn, "been greatly tempted in the direction of philanthropy. But pray go on."
"The first thing I came to establish was an association of dressmakers, myself being one. That is very simple. I have started them with a house free of rent and the necessary furniture—which I know is wrong, because it introduces an unfair advantage—and we divide all the money in certain proportions. That is one thing."
"But, my dear young lady, could you not have done this from Portman Square?"
"I could, but not so well. To live here as a workwoman among other workwomen is, at least, to avoid the danger of being flattered, deceived, and paid court to. I was a most insignificant person when I came. I am now so far advanced that a great many employers of women's labor cordially detest me, and would like to see my association ruined.