“If you explained the circumstances to the mistress you lived with before this last, perhaps she would allow me to make a few inquiries about you?” “She might,” the girl said; “but some ladies do not like to be troubled.” “How long were you in that situation?” asked Lucy. “Six weeks,” answered the girl. “There was a fire, and after that they made some changes, and that was why I came away.” “But I do not like the look of this,” observed Lucy. “And what about the situation before that?” “I don’t know where those people are,” said the girl, a sullenness coming over her. “The master bankrupted, and it was as much as I could do to get my wages.” “You have been very unfortunate,” remarked Lucy, pondering whether this might not be simple fact, and whether justice might not demand that she should give the girl “another chance.” Still it was her present duty to get a reliable household helper, and other considerations must take second place to that absolute duty. Yet she shrank from coming to any harsh decision. “What is the longest time you have kept any situation?” she asked. “I was a whole year in one,” said the girl, with great self-satisfaction. “How long is that ago?” inquired Lucy. “It was my second place,” returned the girl, rather defiantly. “And it was a hard one. For it were a public, an’ the master, he drank, and the missus were dead, and there were six children. I might have been there till to-day,” she went on, “but I had to go into ’orspital, I were that worn out.” What a life history if it were true! And what a terrible imagination if it were false! But why had the girl found it so hard to keep other places if she had so readily endured the slavery indicated in her words? “I am afraid you will not suit me,” said Lucy, very gently. “I fear you have had no opportunity to get the experience and training I require.” “I’ve always been in places, m’m,” answered the girl tartly. “If ten years o’ different places doesn’t give one experience, I don’t know what will!” “Experience of changes,” said Lucy, “but not experience in work and in regular household ways.” The girl looked in Lucy’s face and saw that her dismissal was decided. “Oh, well, m’m, please yourself!” she said. “There’s plenty o’ places goin’ that’ll suit me, and I’d not care to stay long anywhere!” “You did better this time, Sis,” whispered Florence Brand as the damsel flounced away. “But you must not be too particular. Don’t peep too closely behind their set scenes. If they tell you a lie decently, make believe to believe it. Then, if anything turns out wrong, why, you’ve been deceived, you know, and your credit is saved.” Lucy scarcely heard what her sister said. The squalid horror of the lives opening before her sickened and suffocated her soul, just as the fetid atmosphere of the crowded room was sickening to her body.