But when she did speak it was in the soft, clear
tones of a well-bred Englishwoman, and what she said was commonplace
enough.
"I suppose you've called to see about the place?" she asked.
"Ye-es," stammered Simpkins, but with wit enough to know that he had
come at an opportune moment. If there were a place, decidedly he had
called to see about it.
"Who sent you?" she continued, and he understood that he was not there
in answer to a want advertisement.
"Professor Blackburn." And he presented his letter and went on, with
a return of his glibness: "You see, I've been working my way through
Harvard--preparing for the ministry--Congregationalist. Found I'd have
to stop and go to work regularly for a while before I could finish. So
I've come over here, where I can attend the night classes at Columbia at
the same time. And as I'm interested in Egyptology, and had heard a good
deal about your collection, I got that letter to you. Thought you might
know some one in the building who wanted a man, as work in a place like
this would be right in my line. Of course, if you're looking for any
one, I'd like to apply for the place." And he paused expectantly.
"I see. You want to be a Dissenting minister, and you're working for
your education. Very creditable of you, I'm sure. And you're a stranger
in New York, you say?"
"Utter," returned Simpkins.
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