in the window hung a long and tempting array of written placards, announcing vacant places of every grade, from a secretary's to a footboy's.
Nicholas halted instinctively before this temple of promise, and ran his eye over the capital-text openings in life which were so profusely displayed. When he had completed his survey he walked on a little way, and then back, and then on again; at length, after pausing irresolutely several times before the door of the General Agency Office, he made up his mind and stepped in.
He found himself in a little floor-clothed room, with a high desk railed off in one corner, behind which sat a lean youth with cunning eyes and a protruding chin, whose performances in capital-text darkened the window. He had a thick ledger lying open before him, and with the fingers of his right hand inserted between the leaves, and his eyes fixed on a very fat old lady in a mob-cap—evidently the proprietress of the establishment—who was airing herself at the fire, seemed to be only waiting her directions to refer to some entries contained within its rusty clasps.
As there was a board outside, which acquainted the public that servants-of-all-work were perpetually in waiting to be hired from ten till four, Nicholas knew at once that some half-dozen strong young women, each with pattens and an umbrella, who were sitting upon a form in one corner, were in attendance for that purpose, especially as the poor things looked anxious and weary. He was not quite so certain of the callings and stations of two smart young ladies who were in conversation with the fat lady before the fire, until—having sat himself down in a corner, and remarked that he would wait until the other customers had been served—the fat lady resumed the dialogue which his entrance had interrupted.
"Cook, Tom," said the fat lady, still airing herself as aforesaid.
"Cook," said Tom, turning over some leaves of the ledger. "Well."
"Read out an easy place or two," said the fat lady.
"Pick out very light ones, if you please, young man," interposed a genteel female in shepherd's-plaid boots, who appeared to be the client.
"'Mrs. Marker,'" said Tom, reading, "'Russell Place, Russell Square; offers eighteen guineas, tea and sugar found. Two in family, and see very little company. Five servants kept. No man. No followers.'"
"Oh Lor!" tittered the client. "That won't do. Read another, young man, will you?"
"'Mrs. Wrymug,'" said Tom. "'Pleasant Place, Finsbury. Wages, twelve guineas. No tea, no sugar. Serious family—'"
"Ah! you needn't mind reading that," interrupted the client.
"'Three serious footmen,'" said Tom, impressively.
"Three, did you say?" asked the client, in an altered tone.
"Three serious footmen," replied Tom. "'Cook, housemaid, and nursemaid; each female servant required to join the Little Bethel Congregation three times every Sunday—with a serious footman. If the cook is more serious than the footman, she will be expected to improve the footman; if the footman is more serious than the cook, he will be expected to improve the cook.'"
