"Where do you want 'em to go?" asked the woman, whose curiosity was at once awakened. "Only about fifteen miles," was the evasive reply. "Well, I don't know of any," replied the woman, looking a little disappointed. "I don't think there's such a thing to be had anywhere round here." "I was told that Mr. Smithson has daughters who go out to work." "Well, you couldn't git 'em, I know. They go a little right round here, but they wouldn't go off so far. Their folks wouldn't hear a word to 't," said the woman, with a flourish of her broom. "Will you have the kindness to tell me where they live? I think I will try them." "Oh, yes, I'll do that! You must go back to the saddler's shop, and then turn square round to your left, and it is the _first_ house on the right." "How far is it?" "I should say about a mile and a half, or such a matter. It's the _third_ house on the right." Mrs. Harding expressed her thanks, and old Dobbin was whirled round the corner instanter, and they were in full pursuit of the Smithsons. "Here's the house, mother; this is the third," said Walter, as they came in sight of a comfortable-looking farm-house, which stood upon quite a bluff upon the right. Everything about the premises looked very neat. The bright green grass grew clear up to the front door of the cottage, which, with the closed curtains in the "foreroom," gave a particularly staid, go-to-meeting-like aspect to the front. A narrow footpath wound round to the back door, which was evidently the only approved mode of entrance. Mrs. Harding alighted and took the well-worn path to the back door, and knocked. "Come in," called out a shrill voice within. Obeying the summons, she saw before her a very tidy-looking matron, with a very white bleached cotton cap upon her head, holding in her hand a lace or muslin article of the same sort, which she was spatting and pulling, evidently with the intention of "doing it up." The aspect of the kitchen was very inviting. The morning work was all out of the way, and the polished stove and very white unpainted floor were really charming. "I have called to see if one of your daughters would go out to work," said Mrs. Harding, with hope fast rising in her breast, for she felt that she had at last come to the right place. "Well, I don't know; they go out sometimes. Where do you want them to go?" asked the woman, with a glance of curiosity at the stranger. Mrs. Harding mentioned the name of the town and the distance, adding that she should have a large family through the season, and wished some one to cook and do general work. "I don't know what they'd say to it. They can do as they've a mind to. But they ain't good for much, nohow," said the mother, who continued to spat and pull her muslin vigorously. "How old are they?" "The oldest is seventeen this month, and t'other is two years younger."