At this moment the door opened, and in walked a coarse overgrown girl, munching a piece of pie, and staring boldly at the stranger. "Do you want to go out to work, Emmeline? Here's a woman that wants you," said the mother, the moment she made her appearance. "Yes," said the girl, in coarse tones, without relaxing her stare. Mrs. Harding's heart sank within her. She saw, at a glance, that the great, coarse, unmannered girl would be more care than help. She hardly knew how to make an honorable retreat in the case; but after a slight cross-examination of the capabilities of the girl, she expressed her belief that she was too young for her hard work, and bowed herself out, leaving both mother and daughter looking quite disconcerted. "Is she going?" whispered Walter, as his mother approached the carriage. A shake of the head answered him. "Oh, dear, where shall we go now?" "Straight before us, Walter; you must not give up for trifles," said his mother, laughing good-humoredly, notwithstanding the uneasiness that was creeping upon her own heart. "Where?" said Walter, still desponding. "I don't know; we'll see. Don't you know that we are out seeking our fortunes, Wally?" They drove on, and soon met an elderly-looking man in a rickety old wagon, drawn by a limping gray horse. "Can you tell me, sir," said Mrs. Harding, laying her hand upon Walter's arm as a sign to stop, "can you tell me where I can find a girl to do housework?" "That is a pretty difficult thing to find, ma'am," replied the old man, in a respectful tone. "Let me see," and he looked down for a moment, thoughtfully. "Yes, there's Susan Lovejoy you might get, and she would make good help. She is a first rate girl." "How old is she?" inquired Mrs. Harding, as the vision of the coarse girl munching her pie flitted before her. "Oh, she's old enough," replied the man, with a smile, "she's old enough. I should think she might be thirty or thereabouts. They call her one of the best." Away they went over the hills, some three or four miles, and at length old Dobbin was reined up before Mr. Lovejoy's door. It was a substantial-looking farm-house set in the midst of a green field, surrounded by a stone wall, its only opening being a formidable farm-yard gate, fastened to a post by a piece of rope. The premises were guarded by a noisy dog, who rushed out the moment he heard the sound of wheels, and ran barking towards the carriage. Mrs. Harding, however, pushed open the gate, and quickly made her way to the house. A pale, fresh-looking matron was bustling about the kitchen; and standing at a spinning-wheel, near the door, was a girl in a tidy-looking dark calico, whom she knew, at a glance, was the object of her search. She at once made known her errand. "Oh, no," was the response of the girl; "I couldn't possibly go. I don't see who ever thought I would."