m
down to the consolation of gravel pudding again.

Meanwhile Faith crossed the sloppy kitchen, on tiptoe, toward an open
door, that revealed a room within.

Here a very fat young woman, with a rather pleasant face, was seated,
sewing, in a rocking-chair.

She did not rise, or move, at Faith's entrance, otherwise than to look
up, composedly, and let fall her arms along those of the chair,
retaining the needle in one hand and her work in the other.

"I came to see," said Faith--obliged to say something to explain her
presence, but secretly appalled at the magnitude of the subject she had
to deal with--"if you wanted a place in a family."

"Take a seat," said the young woman.

Faith availed herself of one, and, doubtful what to say next, waited for
indications from the other party.

"Well--I _was_ calc'latin' to hire out this summer, but I ain't very
partic'ler about it, neither."

"Can you cook?"

"Most kinds. I can't do much fancy cookin'. Guess I can make bread--all
sorts--and roast, and bile, and see to common fixin's, though, as well
as the next one!"

"We like plain country cooking," said Faith, thinking of Aunt
Henderson's delicious, though simple, preparations. "And I suppose you
can make new things if you have direction."

"Well--I'm pretty good at workin' out a resate, too. But then, I ain't
anyways partic'ler 'bout hirin' out, as I said afore."

Faith judged rightly that this was a salvo put in for pride. The Yankee
girl would not appear anxious for a servile situation. All the while the
conversation went on, she sat tilting herself gently back and forth in
the rocking-chair, with a lazy touching of her toes to the floor. Her
very _vis inertiae_ would not let her stop.

Faith's only question, now, was with herself--how she should get away
again. She had no idea that this huge, indolent creature would be at all
suitable as their servant. And then, her utter want of manners!

"I'll tell my mother what you say," said she, rising.

"What's your mother's name, and where d'ye live?"

"We live at Kinnicutt Cross Corners. My mother is Mrs. Henderson
Gartney."

"'M!"

Faith turned toward the kitchen.

"Look here!" called the stout young woman after her; "you may jest say
if she wants me she can send for me. I don't mind if I try it a spell."

"I didn't ask _your_ name," remarked Faith.

"Oh! my name's Mis' Battis!"

Faith escaped over the wet floor, sprang past the white-haired child at
the