places were provided for the girls.

I pass over my school-days. They were very happy ones; but, when I was
selected to be the servant of a lady in London, I was very miserable at
parting from every body that I knew in the world, and at going among
strangers who would not love me one bit.

It rained heavily on the day I left; and every thing to be seen out of the
window of the railway train looked dismal and dripping. When I got to the
station, in London, I went into the waiting-room. I waited a long time:
one after another went away, till at last I was left alone to watch the
pouring rain as it fell faster and faster. I was beginning to feel very
dismal indeed, when a smartly dressed young woman came into the
waiting-room. At first I thought she was a lady; she came toward me, "Are
you the young person from Birmingham?" she said. I was up in a moment,
saying, "Yes, ma'am," courtesying as I spoke. But the minute afterward I
was sorry that I had courtesied; for I was sure _she_ was not my mistress.

We were soon in the cab. "Well," said my companion, whom I soon knew to be
Maria Wild, the housemaid, "and so you took me to be your mistress, did
you?" and she laughed in a disagreeable way; "I shan't forget your humble
courtesy, and I'll try to keep you up to it." The house at which we
stopped was a pretty stone house, standing at a little distance from the
road, surrounded by a nice garden. I was glad it was in the country, for
the sight of trees and green fields always called to mind those happy
Sundays when dear mother was alive. But the country looked very gloomy
just then; every thing seemed as dull as I was.

I was chilly and shivering, and glad to creep to the fire; no one was in
the kitchen. The kettle was boiling: it sounded cheerily, like the voice
of friends I had often heard. The tea-things were set ready, and every
thing around looked comfortable. By-and-by in came Maria and another
servant--the cook. She was so smart! I looked at her timidly. "Well!" she
said, "now for your courtesy." I knew at once that Maria had been telling
her about my mistake. I looked grave, and felt very uncomfortable; but I
did not courtesy. "Come, come," said she, "I'll excuse you to-night; you
shall have some tea to cheer you up a bit. But don't look so down-hearted,
girl; this'll never do; you must pluck up."

Then we sat down. She asked me a great many questions, all about the place
I had come from; the relations that I had; e