The boy directed her attention to the following advertisement: "Wanted.--A governess for a girl of twelve. Must be a good performer on the piano, and able to instruct in French and the usual English branches. Terms must be moderate. Apply to Mrs. Leighton, at 127 W. ---- Street." "There, Florence, what do you say to that? That's better than sewin'." "I don't know, Dodger, whether I am competent." "You play on the pianner, don't you?" "Yes." "Well enough to teach?" "I think so; but I may not have the gift of teaching." "Yes, you have. Haven't you been teachin' me every evenin'? You make everything just as clear as mud--no, I don't mean that. You just explain so that I can't help understandin'." "Then," said Florence, "I suppose I am at liberty to refer to you." "Yes; you can tell the lady to call at the office of Dodger, Esq., any mornin' after sunrise, and he'll give her full particulars." Florence did not immediately decide to apply for the situation, but the more she thought of it the more she felt inclined to do so. The little experience she had had with Dodger satisfied her that she should enjoy teaching better than sewing or writing. Accordingly, an hour later, she put on her street dress and went uptown to the address given in the advertisement. No. 127 was a handsome brown-stone house, not unlike the one in which Florence had been accustomed to live. It was a refreshing contrast to the poor tenement in which she lived at present. "Is Mrs. Leighton at home?" inquired Florence. "Yes, miss," answered the servant, respectfully. "Whom shall I say?" "I have come to apply for the situation of governess," answered Florence, feeling rather awkward as she made the statement. "Ah," said the servant, with a perceptible decline in respect. "Won't you step in?" "Thank you."