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."