"Oh, dear, where shall we go now?"
"Straight before us, Walter; you must not give up for trifles," said his mother, laughing good-humoredly, notwithstanding the uneasiness that was creeping upon her own heart.
"Where?" said Walter, still desponding.
"I don't know; we'll see. Don't you know that we are out seeking our fortunes, Wally?"
They drove on, and soon met an elderly-looking man in a rickety old wagon, drawn by a limping gray horse.
"Can you tell me, sir," said Mrs. Harding, laying her hand upon Walter's arm as a sign to stop, "can you tell me where I can find a girl to do housework?"
"That is a pretty difficult thing to find, ma'am," replied the old man, in a respectful tone. "Let me see," and he looked down for a moment, thoughtfully. "Yes, there's Susan Lovejoy you might get, and she would make good help. She is a first rate girl."
"How old is she?" inquired Mrs. Harding, as the vision of the coarse girl munching her pie flitted before her.
"Oh, she's old enough," replied the man, with a smile, "she's old enough. I should think she might be thirty or thereabouts. They call her one of the best."
Away they went over the hills, some three or four miles, and at length old Dobbin was reined up before Mr. Lovejoy's door. It was a substantial-looking farm-house set in the midst of a green field, surrounded by a stone wall, its only opening being a formidable farm-yard gate, fastened to a post by a piece of rope. The premises were guarded by a noisy dog, who rushed out the moment he heard the sound of wheels, and ran barking towards the carriage. Mrs. Harding, however, pushed open the gate, and quickly made her way to the house. A pale, fresh-looking matron was bustling about the kitchen; and standing at a spinning-wheel, near the door, was a girl in a tidy-looking dark calico, whom she knew, at a glance, was the object of her search.