THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYMOW.
A STORY FOR HOUSEKEEPERS.
BY H. D. R.
"YOU must have help, that is certain," said Mr. Harding, as he laid a letter which he had been reading upon the breakfast-table, and began to sip his coffee. "With all this company upon your hands, and warm weather coming on, it would be madness for you to try to get along alone."
"That is true," sighed Mrs. Harding; "but the question is, where to get it. The whole vicinity has been searched over and over, and there is not a girl to be had."
"One must be had," replied her husband, in a determined tone. "Eight or ten visitors, more or less, for the summer, will kill you outright." And he cast a troubled glance at the pale face and slender form of his wife.
"Well, how shall we get help, then?" asked Mrs. Harding, half laughing in the midst of her vexation. "The days are gone by when girls apply for places."
"Yes, there is no way but to go after them. If my troublesome rheumatism would just leave me for a few days, you should have two girls. But as it is, wife, I see no way but for you to go yourself with Walter for driver."
Mrs. Harding laughed to think how she would look driving about the country for "help," and would almost have preferred to try her hand alone; but her husband's troubled countenance and the necessities of the case decided her, and she said—