"She hain't done much about _lookin'_," was the reply, "but she was sayin' she didn't know but what she'd hire out for a spell, if anybody wanted her. She's in the keepin' room. You can come in and speak to her, if you're a mind to. The kitchen floor's wet. I'm jest a-washin' of it. You little sperrit!" This to the child, who was amusing himself with the floor cloth which he had fished out of the bucket, and held up, dripping, letting a stream of dirty water run down the front of his red calico frock. "If children ain't the biggest torments! Talk about Job! His wife had to have more patience than he did, I'll be bound! And patience ain't any use, either! The more you have, the more you're took advantage of! I declare and testify, it makes me as cross as sin, jest to think how good-natured I be!" And with this, she snatched the cloth from the boy's hands, shook first him and then his frock, to get rid, in so far as a shake might accomplish it, of original depravity and sandy soapsuds, and carried him, vociferant, to the door, where she set him down to the consolation of gravel pudding again. Meanwhile Faith crossed the sloppy kitchen, on tiptoe, toward an open door, that revealed a room within. Here a very fat young woman, with a rather pleasant face, was seated, sewing, in a rocking-chair. She did not rise, or move, at Faith's entrance, otherwise than to look up, composedly, and let fall her arms along those of the chair, retaining the needle in one hand and her work in the other. "I came to see," said Faith--obliged to say something to explain her presence, but secretly appalled at the magnitude of the subject she had to deal with--"if you wanted a place in a family." "Take a seat," said the young woman. Faith availed herself of one, and, doubtful what to say next, waited for indications from the other party. "Well--I _was_ calc'latin' to hire out this summer, but I ain't very partic'ler about it, neither." "Can you cook?" "Most kinds. I can't do much fancy cookin'. Guess I can make bread--all sorts--and roast, and bile, and see to common fixin's, though, as well as the next one!" "We like plain country cooking," said Faith, thinking of Aunt Henderson's delicious, though simple, preparations. "And I suppose you can make new things if you have direction." "Well--I'm pretty good at workin' out a resate, too. But then, I ain't anyways partic'ler 'bout hirin' out, as I said afore." Faith judged rightly that this was a salvo put in for pride. The Yankee girl would not appear anxious for a servile situation. All the while the conversation went on, she sat tilting herself gently back and forth in the rocking-chair, with a lazy touching of her toes to the floor. Her very _vis inertiae_ would not let her stop. Faith's only question, now, was with herself--how she should get away again. She had no idea that this huge, indolent creature would be at all suitable as their servant. And then, her utter want of manners!