"My character," faltered Emilia, "is well known. My dear father and I have lived in this neighborhood many years."
"I do not like evasions. You know the kind of character I mean. Fitness to teach young children, capacity, willingness, experience, cheerfulness, readiness to make yourself useful in any way."
"I would be willing to make myself useful, madam, to do all I was told. I think I could teach young children. Will you try me? I beg of you to do so. I am in a dreadful position; I have not a shilling in the world, and not a friend, I am afraid. Try me, madam. I will do everything you wish."
"Umph! Not a shilling in the world! And not a friend! Still more discouraging, because, Miss Braham, we generally get what we deserve."
"I think I deserve friends, madam," said Emilia, striving to keep back her tears, "but I have been unfortunate. I think you would be satisfied with me. I would try very, very hard."
She held out her trembling hands; to a tender hearted woman the affecting appeal would have been irresistible.
"A lady," said Mrs. Seaton, "has to be careful whom she takes into her home. I have six young children. What can you teach?"
In timid accents Emilia went through her accomplishments.
"I have only your word for it," said Mrs. Seaton.
"I am telling the truth, indeed, madam."