"It might only be for a time," said Granny. "In the summer I'll get on my feet again."

I couldn't bear to look at Granny or I should have told her that I would rather starve than work as I was suggesting. But I wasn't the only one to be considered. There was Joe who had had this terrible misfortune; and there was Granny herself. If I were away working, they could have my share of the sky blue and sinkers; my share of the potatoes and bacon.

"I'll put myself up at Trelinket Fair next week," I said firmly.

Trelinket Fair was held twice a year in the village of Trelinket—a good two miles from St. Larnston. We had always gone to it—Granny, Joe, and I — in the old days; and those were red-letter days for us. Granny Bee would dress her hair with special care and we would walk proudly through the crowds; she used to take some of her cures and sell them to a stallholder, who bought as many as she could provide. Then she would buy us gingerbread or a fairing. But this year we had nothing to sell; and as Joe couldn't walk the two miles to the fair everything was changed.

I set out alone, with my heart like a piece of lead; my pride debased. How many times, walking through the fair with Granny and an uncrippled Joe, had I glanced at those men and women who stood on the hiring platform and been so happy because I was not like them. It seemed to me the depth of degradation that men and women should have to hire themselves out. It was like being in a slave market. But it was what had to be done if one needed work, for employers came to the fair for the purpose of hiring likely-looking servants. Now, today, I was to be one of them.

It was a bright spring day and somehow the sunshine made it worse; I envied the birds who seemed mad with joy after the unusually hard winter; in fact I was ready to envy everyone that morning. Once the fair had offered a feast of enjoyment. I had loved the bustle of it, the smell, the noise—everything that made up Trelinket Fair. On the refreshment stalls there was hot beef and boiled goose; you watched them cooking on fires beside the stalls. There were stalls of pies, golden pasty enclosing the delicious contents baked the day before in some farmhouse kitchen or cottage oven. The stallholders called out the tantalizing descriptions as the people strolled past. "Try a piece of this old muggety, m'dear. Reckon you ain't never tasted the like." And one of them cut open a pie to display the entrail of sheep or calves, which was muggety, or those of pig which were natdins. A special treat was the taddage pies made with sucking pig; and the more common squab or pigeon pie was there, too.

People would stand by the stalls sampling and buying the pies to take away with them. There was that part of the fair where the cattle were on show; there were the cheap-Jacks selling almost everything you could think of—old boots and clothing, saddlery, pots, pans, and even cloam ovens. There were the fortunetellers and the healers—those who shouted the merits of their medicines and who had been customers of Granny Bee's.

And close by the spot where a goose was being roasted over an open fire was the hiring platform. I viewed it with shame. Several people were already standing there; they looked a wretched and dejected lot; and no wonder. Who could enjoy displaying themselves for hire! And to think that I, Kerensa Carlee, must join them. I thought I should hate the smell of roasting goose forever after. Everyone around me seemed to be laughing; the sun had turned hot and I felt angry with the whole world.

But I had given my word to Granny that I would stand for hire. I could not go back and tell her that my heart had failed me right at the last moment. I couldn't go back and be a burden to them; I, who was well and strong.

Resolutely I approached the platform and mounted the rickety wooden steps at the side; then I was standing there among them.

Prospective employers regarded us with interest, weighing up our possibilities. I saw Farmer Pengaster among them. If he took me, it wouldn't be too bad. He was reckoned to be good to his workpeople and I should be able to take little titbits home to the cottage. It would ease my bitterness considerably if I could go home now and then and play the lady bountiful.

Then I saw two people who made me start back in dismay. I recognized them as the butler and housekeeper at the Abbas. Only one purpose could have brought them to the fair and they were making straight for the hiring platform. Now I was beginning to be frightened. It had been a dream of mine that one day I should live at St. Larnston Abbas; I had lived with that dream, because Granny Bee had told me that if you created a dream and did all you could to make it come true, it was almost certain that in time it would. Now I saw this dream of mine could easily come true—I could live at the Abbas—as a servant!

Hundreds of images flitted through my mind. I thought of young Justin St. Larnston haughtily giving me orders; of Johnny jeering at me, reminding me I was a servant; of Mellyora coming to drink tea with the family and myself standing by in cap and apron to serve them. I thought of Kim there. There was another thought too. Ever since Granny had confided in me that day in the woods, I had thought a good deal about that Sir Justin who was the father of the present one. They were very much alike and I was like Granny. There was a possibility that what had happened to Granny might happen to me. I burned with rage and shame at the thought.

They were coming nearer, talking earnestly, then scrutinizing one of the hiring girls who was about my age. What if they should pass along the line? What if they should choose me?

I was wrestling with myself. Should I leap from the platform and run home? I pictured myself explaining to Granny. She would understand. Hadn't it been my suggestion—not hers—that I should come at all?

Then I saw Mellyora—dainty and fresh in mauve gingham, with a flounced skirt and a neat close-fitting bodice, neck and sleeves edged with lace; with white stockings and black walking shoes with straps; and her fair hair showing from under her straw bonnet.

The moment I saw her she saw me, and in that second I was unable to hide my apprehension. She came over swiftly, her eyes troubled, and she stood right before me.

"Kerensa?" She said my name softly.

I was angry because she had seen me in my humiliation, and how could I help hating her, standing there neat, clean, fresh, so dainty—and free.

"You're hiring yourself?"

"It would seem so," I answered truculently.

"But ... you haven't before."

"Times are hard," I muttered.

The pair from the Abbas were coming nearer. The butler already had his eyes on me and they were shining in a warm and speculative manner.

A look of excitement came into Mellyora's face; she caught her breath and started to speak in a hurry as though the words wouldn't come out quickly enough.

"Kerensa, we're looking for someone. Would you come to the parsonage?"

It was like a reprieve. The dream was not turning sour on me. I was not going to St. Larnston Abbas by way of the back door. If I did that, I felt the real dream would never come true.

"To the parsonage!" I stammered. "So you are here for the hiring?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes, we need ... someone. When will you be ready to start?"

Haggety the butler was close to us now; he said: "Morning, Miss Martin."

"Good morning."

"Nice to see you. Miss, at the fair. Mrs. Rolt and myself s here to find us a pair of girls for the kitchens." He was looking at me now, his little eyes shining.

"This looks a likely 'un," he said. "What's your name?"

I lifted my head haughtily. "You're too late," I said. "I'm hired."

There was a feeling of unreality in the air that day. I had the impression that this really wasn't happening to me, that soon I would wake up and find myself on the talfat, dreaming as always or laughing with Granny Bee.

I was actually walking along beside Mellyora Martin; and she had engaged me to work at the parsonage—she, a girl of my own age.

Mr. Haggety and Mrs. Rolt had looked so astounded that they had only gaped when Mellyora said a gracious good-bye. They stared at us as we walked away and I heard Mrs. Rolt murmur: "Well, did 'ee ever see the like!" I glanced at Mellyora and I felt a vague alarm; I sensed that she was beginning to regret a rash action. I was certain then that she had not come to the fair to hire anyone, that she had acted on an impulse to save me from going to work at the Abbas, just as she had tried to save me from the mockery of the boys when she had found me in the wall.

I asked: "Is it all right?"

"What?"

"For you to hire me?"

"It'll be all right."

"But ..."

"We'll manage!" she said; she was very pretty when she smiled and the sparkle and defiance in her eyes made her prettier.

People turned to look at us as we went through the crowds, past the cheap-Jack who was shouting the merits of his wares, how a bottle of this or that would cure all the ills in the world; past the roasting goose and the stall of fairings. We were such a contrast—she so fair, myself so dark; she so neat, and myself, though clean, for I had washed my smock and my hair the day before, so poorly dressed; she in her black shining shoes, myself barefoot. And it wouldn't occur to anyone that she had hired me.

She led me to the edge of the field in which the fair was set up and there was the pony and trap which I knew belonged to the parsonage: in the driving seat was the middle-aged governess whom I had seen often in Mellyora's company.