"Tom, did you ever know him interested in any mortal thing from an entomological specimen to a murder case?"
"Ought to have been a Buddhist monk," murmured Tom.
"It's the privilege of a weak heart," said Philip placidly. "I have to lounge through life, physically and emotionally, by doctors' orders. Yes, you were explaining why your Matilda Grace does her hair differently at least three times a day when she has so little of it to do."
"You have seen that! I never knew that you noticed anything," exclaimed his sister.
"A general delusion: hence my opportunities for noticing," replied Philip.
"I had her through Mrs. Barton," continued Phœbe, ignoring the side issue. "She has a 'Settlement' in the East End, you know, and does a frightful lot of good there among the most extraordinary girls, I should imagine. They encourage them to go into service instead of into mills and workshops. Mrs. Barton heard that we were taking this cottage for a few months and wrote begging me to try one of her girls. She said that she had some quite presentable-looking, and that one by herself in a very small house in the country would have a good chance of doing well. So I went to look at them."
"Like going to the Dogs' Home, your registry offices, aren't they?" said Philip. "They all sit round, don't they, and you go in and have the little animals you fancy brought out and put through their tricks."
"I think it has come to the mistresses being the little animals and sitting round waiting for the servants to come and have them, to hear them talk," suggested Mr. Bartlett.
"Well, I was really quite tired of going to ordinary registry offices, and of having anæmic girls sent up
