I reflected. I was driven to the point now. I was brought face to face
with Necessity. I stood in the position of one without a resource,
without a friend, without a coin. I must do something. What? I must
apply somewhere. Where?

"Did she know of any place in the neighbourhood where a servant was
wanted?"

"Nay; she couldn't say."

"What was the chief trade in this place? What did most of the people
do?"

"Some were farm labourers; a good deal worked at Mr. Oliver's
needle-factory, and at the foundry."

"Did Mr. Oliver employ women?"

"Nay; it was men's work."

"And what do the women do?"

"I knawn't," was the answer. "Some does one thing, and some another.
Poor folk mun get on as they can."

She seemed to be tired of my questions: and, indeed, what claim had I to
importune her? A neighbour or two came in; my chair was evidently
wanted. I took leave.

I passed up the street, looking as I went at all the houses to the right
hand and to the left; but I could discover no pretext, nor see an
inducement to enter any. I rambled round the hamlet, going sometimes to
a little distance and returning again, for an hour or more. Much
exhausted, and suffering greatly now for want of food, I turned aside
into a lane and sat down under the hedge. Ere many minutes had elapsed,
I was again on my feet, however, and again searching something--a
resource, or at least an informant. A pretty little house stood at the
top of the lane, with a garden before it, exquisitely neat and
brilliantly blooming. I stopped at it. What business had I to approach
the white door or touch the glittering knocker? In what way could it
possibly be the interest of the inhabitants of that dwelling to serve me?
Yet I drew near and knocked. A mild-looking, cleanly-attired young woman
opened the door. In such a voice as might be expected from a hopeless
heart and fainting frame--a voice wretchedly low and faltering--I asked
if a servant was wanted here?

"No," said she; "we do not keep a servant."

"Can you tell me where I could get employment of any kind?" I continued.
"I am a stranger, without acquaintance in this place. I want some work:
no matter what."

But it was not her business to think for me, or to seek a place for me:
besides, in her eyes, how doubtful must have appeared my character,
position, tale. She shook her head, she "was sorry she could give me no
information," and the white door closed, quite gently and ci