went
into the kitchen, and she asked me all about myself. I told her the
truth; I was too miserable now to do anything else. Well, the result
was--she kept me there."

"For good?"

"Indeed, for good. In that very house I lived for six years. Oh; she
was the queerest and kindest little body! At first I helped her servant
in the kitchen,--she lived quite by herself, with one servant,--but
little by little she made me a sort of lady's maid, and I did no more
rough work. You wouldn't believe the ridiculous fancies of that dear
old woman! She thought herself a great beauty, and often told me so
very plainly, and she used to talk to me about her chances of being
married to this and the other person in the neighbourhood. And the
result of all this was that she had to spend I don't know how long
every day in dressing herself, and then looking at herself in the
glass. And I had to learn how to do her hair, and put paint and powder
on her face, and all sorts of wonderful things. She was as good to me
as she could be, and I never wanted for anything. And so six years
passed, and one morning she was found dead in her bed.

"Well, that was the end of the happiest time of my life. In a day or
two some relatives came to look after things, and I had to go. They
were kind to me, however; they gave me money, and told me I might refer
to them if I needed to. I came to London, and took a room, and wondered
what I should do.

"I advertised, and answered advertisements, but nothing came. My money
was going, and I should soon be as badly off as ever. I began to do
what I had always thought of as the very last thing, look for
needlework, either for home or in a workroom. I don't know how it is
that I have always hated sewing. For one thing, I really can't sew. I
was never taught as a child, and few girls are as clumsy with a needle
as I am. I've always looked upon a work-girl's life as the most
horrible drudgery; I'd far rather scrub floors. I suppose I've a
rebellious disposition, and just because sewing is looked upon as a
woman's natural slavery, I rebelled against it.

"By this time I was actually starving. I had one day to tell my
landlady I couldn't pay my rent. She was a very decent woman, and she
talked to me in a kind way. What was better, she gave me help. She had
a sister who kept a laundry, and she thought I might perhaps get
something to do there; at all events she would go and see. The result
was I got work. I was in the l