“Well, I have been thinking, Sarah, and, although I know you won’t agree with me, I believe I should be very well advised to seek a situation in—in a domestic capacity.”

“In a—Never while I’m alive!” said Mrs Nidd. “The Lord knows it went against the pluck with me when you hired yourself out as a governess, but at least it was genteel! But if you’re thinking of going out as a cook-maid, or—”

“I shouldn’t think anyone who wasn’t all about in her head would hire me!” interrupted Kate, laughing. “You know I can’t bake an egg without burning it! No, I believe I might do very well—or, at any rate, tolerably well!—as an abigail! In fact, I daresay I could rise to be a dresser! Then, you know, I should be a person of huge consequence, besides making my fortune. Mrs Astley’s housekeeper has a cousin who is dresser to a lady of fashion, and you wouldn’t believe how plump in the pocket she is!”

“No, I wouldn’t!” retorted Mrs Nidd. “And even if I did—”

“But it is perfectly true!” insisted Kate. For one thing, a first-rate dresser commands a far bigger wage than a mere governess—besides being a person of very much more consequence! Unless, of course, the governess should be excessively well educated, and able to instruct her charges in all the genteel accomplishments. And even then, you know, nobody slides sovereigns or bills into her hand to win her favour!”

“Well, upon my word!—” uttered Mrs Nidd explosively.

Kate’s eyes danced. “Yes, isn’t it shocking? But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ve made up my mind to it that to make my fortune—or, at any rate, to win an independence!—is of more importance than to preserve my gentility. No, no, listen, Sarah! You must know that I have no accomplishments. I can’t speak Italian, or play the piano—far less the harp!—and even if people wished their children to be instructed in Spanish, which they don’t, I don’t think they would wish them to learn soldiers’ Spanish, which is all I know! On the other hand, I can sew, and make, and dress a head to admiration! I did so once for Mrs Astley, when she was going to a ball, and her woman had made a perfect botch of her hair. So—”