It was remembering Monsieur Charretier that brought me to my bearings.
"I think your ladyship would be satisfied," I said. "And I make all my
own dresses."

"That one you've got on?--which is _most_ unsuitable for a maid, I may
tell you, and I should never permit it."

"This one I have on, also."

"I thought maybe it had been a present. Well, it's _something_ that you
speak both English and French passably well. I'll try you on Lady
Kilmarny's recommendation, if you want to come to me for fifty francs a
month. I won't give more to an _amateur_."

I thought hard for a minute. Lady Kilmarny had said it would not be many
weeks before the Turnours went to England. There, if Miss Paget (who
seemed extremely nice by contrast and in retrospect) were still of the
same mind, I might find a good home. If not, she was as kind as she was
queer, and would help me look further. So I replied that I would accept
the fifty francs, and would do my best to please her ladyship.

She did not express herself as gratified. "You can begin work this
evening," she said. "I was obliged to send away my last maid yesterday,
and I'm _lost_ without one." (This was delightful from a "lidy" who had
kept lodgers for years, with the aid perhaps of one smudgy-nosed
"general"!) "But have you no more suitable clothes? I can't let a maid
of mine go flaunting about, like a Mary-Jane-on-Sunday."

I mentioned a couple of plain black dresses in my wardrobe, which might
be made to answer if I were allowed a few hours' time to work upon them,