"Oh no, that is wrong, Wally. I would not have a domestic unless it would be for her interest to serve me as well as for mine. But I do believe these uncultivated girls sometimes stand very much in their own light in refusing to go where they might be learning something valuable, and be really improving themselves, as well as helping those who need." "Well, I am sick of this," said Walter, half laughing, and almost half crying. "I am tired and hungry. Cannot we have some dinner?" His mother assured him that they would stop for dinner soon. In the mean time, they continued their inquiries. One girl who, they were assured, was at home spinning, and who intended to engage out for the season, they found had started the day before for Boston in search of a place. At another house, a sweet-looking girl, blue-eyed and fair, with her white arms bare almost to the shoulders, had her trunk already packed for Lowell. She "could not go." One pale mother had three daughters, one of whom was at the academy, a second in the paper-mill, and the third she must keep to assist herself. One stout, healthy girl, whom Mrs. Harding urged to the very verge of decency, preferred to stay at home to knit for the merchants at one dollar per pound. And one woman, with very yellow skin and snapping black eyes, wouldn't "have her girls go where folks were so grand. They were as good as anybody, and better than some who sot themselves up to be so smart." It was two hours past noon when our tired, worn-out travellers drove up to a small tavern to dine. As they sat at table, a new thought struck Mrs. Harding. She would inquire of the table-girl. "No, ma'am," replied the girl to her question, with a smile and a shake of the head. "We can't get girls enough here to do our work. Most all the girls here go to the factory. There was a man along last week, who had been up country to get a lot of girls, and he had engaged sixteen hundred to go to a new factory in Lowell. He pays them so much a head, and takes them down by the lot, just like cattle to the market." "Shall you go home now, mother?" asked Walter, when the girl had left the room. "Certainly I shall; and I can see no other way but to do my own work at present." It was a late hour in the evening when Mrs. Harding and her son drove up to their own door. Mr. Harding, notwithstanding his rheumatism, laughed heartily as they rehearsed the incidents of the day. He still insisted, however, that it was because they had taken an unfortunate direction, and that, if they should take a different route, they would surely be more successful. "No," said Mrs. Harding, laughing; "I can assure you I have had enough of it. All I get for my day's labor is the privilege of getting my own supper. I can get along alone, and _must_."