"Oh!" said Lucy, "how I do wish Mrs. Broadson had children—something that I could love."
"If you find you cannot love Mrs. Broadson, Lucy, you may find somebody to love - maybe that good-natured Irish girl."
"That will be a comfort—and if Mrs. Broadson is cross, maybe she will take my part."
"Have a care, Lucy; don't have any combination against your employer."
"But, mother, you would not have me bear everything?"
"No, my child; when there is that which you ought not to bear, you must change your place; but don't be in haste to do this; you will find something disagreeable in every place; permanence is in itself a great good, especially for a young person. You hardly need any other recommendation than that you have lived a long while in any decent family."
"Well, mother, I shall always come home and tell you all my troubles, and then do just what you think best."
"No, Lucy—try first to bear your troubles, and, by bearing, overcome them. If they are insupportable, then come to me—if you are puzzled as to what you ought to do, come to me—but don't make mountains of molehills. One thing I charge you to be circumspect about—the private circumstances of a family must be more or less exposed to the persons employed in it, and a feeling of honour should restrain them from tale-bearing—I am afraid there is very little of this. The time will come, when, as the condition of the employed in our country is very much elevated above what that of
D2
