"Can you tell me of any girls in the vicinity who go out to work?" sang out Mrs. Harding to the slovenly-looking man, who had no idea of drawing nearer.
"What? I didn't hear."
The question was repeated, and the sound of a stranger's voice brought three or four barefooted, uncombed juveniles to the door, and the mother's head to the window.
"Can you tell this woman where she can find a gal to do housework?" said the man, addressing his better half.
"Why, yes; there's gals enough, but I can't seem to think on 'em," said the woman, with a perplexed look. "P'raps she could get one of Smithson's gals. He has got two that go out to work."
"Would they make good help?" asked Mrs. Harding.
"Fust rate. One on 'em worked for me a spell last winter, and she did well."
Mrs. Harding thought that was no great recommendation; but she simply thanked her, and asked if she could tell of any others.
"Wal, I don't think of any; but there's enough on 'em a leetle farther on, at Mapleton."
"How far is that?"