avour to grant? Sit down, and let me
hear how you are going on. Perhaps the petition will slip out while we
are talking. How does your husband behave to you?'

Emily's light grey eyes looked more watery than ever. She shook her
head and sighed resignedly. 'I have no positive complaint to make
against him, Miss. But I'm afraid he doesn't care about me; and he
seems to take no interest in his home--I may almost say he's tired of
his home. It might be better for both of us, Miss, if he went
travelling for a while--not to mention the money, which is beginning to
be wanted sadly.' She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and sighed
again more resignedly than ever.

'I don't quite understand,' said Agnes. 'I thought your husband had an
engagement to take some ladies to Switzerland and Italy?'

'That was his ill-luck, Miss. One of the ladies fell ill--and the
others wouldn't go without her. They paid him a month's salary as
compensation. But they had engaged him for the autumn and winter--and
the loss is serious.'

'I am sorry to hear it, Emily. Let us hope he will soon have another
chance.'

'It's not his turn, Miss, to be recommended when the next applications
come to the couriers' office. You see, there are so many of them out
of employment just now. If he could be privately recommended--' She
stopped, and left the unfinished sentence to speak for itself.

Agnes understood her directly. 'You want my recommendation,' she
rejoined. 'Why couldn't you say so at once?'

Emily blushed. 'It would be such a chance for my husband,' she
answered confusedly. 'A letter, inquiring for a good courier (a six
months' engagement, Miss!) came to the office this morning. It's
another man's turn to be chosen--and the secretary will recommend him.
If my husband could only send his testimonials by the same post--with
just a word in your name, Miss--it might turn the scale, as they say.
A private recommendation between gentlefolks goes so far.' She stopped
again, and sighed again, and looked down at the carpet, as if she had
some private reason for feeling a little ashamed of herself.

Agnes began to be rather weary of the persistent tone of mystery in
which her visitor spoke. 'If you want my interest with any friend of
mine,' she said, 'why can't you tell me the name?'

The courier's wife began to cry. 'I'm ashamed to tell you, Miss.'

For the first time, Agnes spoke sharply. 'Nonsense, Emily! Tell me
the name directly--or drop the subj