“A place!" cried the doctor; “why, whom do you take me for? Did you think my surgery was a register-office for servants? What have I to do with places? Who on earth sent you to me?”
“No one sent me, sir; I came of my own accord, because you are the only person that I know in Ipswich.”
“Well, they say a great many more people know Tom Fool than Tom Fool knows. I don’t recollect ever seeing you before. I know not who you are in the least.”
“What, sir! do you not remember when you lifted me off the pony at your door, ever so many years ago, and called me a brave little girl, and told me, when you left me at my father’s, that if ever I wanted a friend I should find one in you?”
“What! are you the girl that made the pony go? Can you be Margaret Catchpole, the heroine of Nacton Turf?”
“I am Margaret, sir; I left my uncle’s, at Brandiston, this morning, and am come to Ipswich in search of a place. I have lost my sister, my mother, and two brothers, and, knowing no one in Ipswich but you, I thought, sir, as you promised to help me, you would not be offended at my asking. I only want to work and live without being burdensome to any one.”
“Well, and what place do you want, my girl?”
“I can do any kind of plain work, sir, from the cow-house to the nursery.”
“Nursery! nursery! do you know anything about the care of children?”