Lady Cosgrove smiled as the giant tabby cat leapt unceremoniously into her lap and she idly petted the creature. “Don’t be so shocked, Miss Chamberlin. Most of those girls out there in our kitchen cannot so much as write their own names. They, of course, will have to resign themselves to domestic service of the most menial nature, but there might be another sort of position entirely for you.

“There is an American gentleman residing in Sydney just now—a widower with two young sons. He’s applied to me several times for a governess to look after his children while he attends to his rather extensive interests. I should think he’d be pleased to engage a woman from his own country.” Lady Cosgrove left off petting the cat to shuffle through a stack of cards, finally settling upon one with a muttered exclamation. “Yes, here it is. Mr. Duncan Kirk. He keeps offices at Number Twenty George Street; I could telephone him and request an interview if you’d like.”

Though Maggie’s impulse had been to blurt out her intentions to accept Mr. McKenna’s offer of an engagement at one of his theaters, she thought better of it. It was almost providential that Mr. Kirk’s offices should be within walking distance of Mr. McKenna’s; here was a way she could keep her appointment with that disturbing gentleman without throwing away all chance of obtaining a certificate. No one knew better than she did that fate had a way of slamming doors in a person’s face.

“I would like very much to meet with Mr. Kirk, thank you,” Maggie said quietly. And if her words weren’t entirely true, her gratitude was genuine. Lady Cosgrove obviously took the most thorough care to see that her charges were well placed, and Maggie had seen enough of the world to know how easily a woman in such a position could abuse her authority.

Pleased, Lady Cosgrove unearthed a telephone from the papers that littered her desk and shouted into the receiver, “Give me Mr. Duncan Kirk, if you please.”

Maggie suppressed a smile. The telephone was still a new contrivance to people of Lady Cosgrove’s generation and they invariably felt the need to compensate for wire-strung distances by speaking loudly. Nonetheless, the interview was arranged and Maggie was dismissed to put up her hair, which had fallen free about her shoulders since her bath.

Back in the upstairs dressing room, Maggie found her bag and got out her brush and pins, making haste to arrange her hair in a fashion that would impress Mr. McKenna and, if need be, Mr. Kirk as well.

There was, a maid came to impart, a carriage waiting to take her to George Street, and would she please hurry. Maggie was already making every effort to hurry, and, minutes later, she bounded out the front gates and through the door the driver was holding open for her.