"Six miles beyond the Plains."
Mrs. Harding thanked her informer, and they drove on down the long steep hill, at the foot of which lay the insignificant village of Seccombe Plains.
"We have heard of one girl, mother," said Walter, looking very bright. "Perhaps she will be just the one for us."
"Perhaps so," said Mrs. Harding, doubtfully.
"We shall feel pretty grand if we can carry back a good girl."
Mrs. Harding laughed, and said something about "counting chickens before they were hatched;" but just then they found themselves at the foot of the long hill, and directly opposite a low farm-house, the mistress of which was out, broom in hand, sweeping the little footpath which led to the road.
Mrs. Harding inquired if she knew of any girls for housework.
"Where do you want 'em to go?" asked the woman, whose curiosity was at once awakened.
"Only about fifteen miles," was the evasive reply.
"Well, I don't know of any," replied the woman, looking a little disappointed. "I don't think there's such a thing to be had anywhere round here."