"Want board, do you?" the woman asks. "Well, we ain't got no place;
we're always right full up."

My disappointment is keen. Regretfully I leave the fire and start on
again.

"I guess you'll have some trouble in finding what you want," the woman
calls to me on her way back to the kitchen, as I go out.

The answer is everywhere the same, with slight variations. Some take
"mealers" only, some only "roomers," some "only gentlemen." I begin to
understand it. Among the thousands of families who live in the city on
account of the work provided by the mills, there are girls enough to
fill the factories. There is no influx such as creates in a small town
the necessity for working-girl boarding-houses. There is an ample supply
of hands from the existing homes. There is the same difference between
city and country factory life that there is between university life in
a capital and in a country town.

A sign on a neat-looking corner house attracts me. I rap and continue to
rap; the door is opened at length by a tall good-looking young woman.
Her hair curls prettily, catching the light; her eyes are stupid and
beautiful. She has on a black skirt and a bright purple waist.

"Do you take boarders?"

"Why, yes. I don't generally like to take ladies, they give so much
trouble. You can come in if you like. Here's the room," she continues,
opening a door near the vestibule. She brushes her hand over her
forehead and stares at me; and then, as though she can no longer silence