She was at work before half-past six the next day, and had three more letters done before it was time to go to Miss Lee's, where it was a busy day of finishing work; and when at three o'clock the last stitch was put to the dress that had been made out of Mrs. Drew's cambric, Miss Lee asked Jessie to carry it home, suspecting that the walk would be good for her.
It was rather hot, but Jessie did enjoy the lanes, with their flowery banks, and the sweet smells of the hay, and she felt much brightened and refreshed. When she came near the house, she saw some one sitting in a basket-chair in the porch, and knew that it was Miss Needwood, a poor, sickly orphan relation of Mrs. Drew's, who was always trying situations as nursery governess, or reader, or the like, and leaving them because her health would not serve; and then she had no home to go to but Chalk-pit Farm. She was not so much above the Hollises as the farmer's own family, and was always friendly with them. She came to meet Jessie, shook hands with her, and explained that Mrs. Drew had been summoned to speak about some poultry, but would return in a moment if Miss Hollis would sit down.
"Are you stopping here for long?" asked Jessie.
"I don't know," said the poor girl, sadly; "I hoped I was settled in a nice situation; but my asthma was bad there, and the lady found it out, and it made her nervous, so here I am again. Mr. Drew, he is kind, and says I may make myself useful with teaching the children; but oh, dear! I don't know enough for that."
"I thought you had gone out for a nursery governess."
"Yes"—the tears came in her eyes;—"but I'll never try again. The elder young ladies made game of my French, and said I didn't spell as well as the little nursery girl. And it was true, Miss Hollis. I tried being a sewing-maid last, though Mrs. Drew didn't want folk to know it; but, you see, I hadn't health for that. They are very good here, and will keep me; but I am nothing but a burthen. If I could but hear of something to do—if only to keep me in clothes. I can do fancy-work, if I could get any."
"Can you embroider?" asked Jessie.
Miss Needwood took out her pocket-handkerchief, where her initials, H. N., were beautifully worked. Jessie had admired her own work, but this was much better. It was just such an N as she wanted, and she exclaimed—
"If you would be so kind as to lend me one of those for a pattern, I should be so much obliged."
"Do you embroider?" asked Miss Needwood. "I wish you could tell me if there is any shop at Ellerby or Carchester that would employ me; I should be so much happier."