Mr. Clendon nodded affirmatively.

"He is well known."

"Though I had no hope of getting the situation, I sent some letters of
poor Mr. Bishop's as testimonials, and this morning--oh, it is almost
incredible--I received this letter, informing me that my testimonials
were satisfactory, and that I had obtained the post. And what do you
think it is? Oh, the most delightful of all work--the very thing I
would have chosen! It is to arrange, and catalogue, and generally take
care of a large library. And the salary--this is the most wonderful
part of the whole fairy tale--is to be £150 a year. Think of it!
One--hundred--and-fifty--pounds a year!"

"It is a very good salary," said Mr. Clendon. "I congratulate you."

She laid her hand on the wrinkled one which rested on his stick.

"But don't you think it is quite extraordinary? Surely one does not
usually get such a post as this so easily as I have done! There is a
kind of magic in it. You"--she looked at him keenly, searchingly--"Mr.
Clendon, have you had any hand in this?"

He looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you think it is likely that I consort with marquesses or have any
influence with them?" he asked, with a smile.

"Anyway, it is you who have brought me this great good luck," she said,
as gratefully as if he had admitted the truth. "You have been my mascot.
A very dear, generous mascot. But you will let me pay you back? But I am
almost ashamed to speak of payment, when no money could repay."