my mind that Euphemia must have a servant.

She agreed quite readily when I proposed the plan, and she urged me
to go and see the carpenter that very day, and get him to come and
partition off a little room for the girl.

It was some time, of course, before the room was made (for who ever
heard of a carpenter coming at the very time he was wanted?) and,
when it was finished, Euphemia occupied all her spare moments in
getting it in nice order for the servant when she should come. I
thought she was taking too much trouble, but she had her own ideas
about such things.

"If a girl is lodged like a pig, you must expect her to behave like
a pig, and I don't want that kind."

So she put up pretty curtains at the girl's window, and with a box
that she stood on end, and some old muslin and a lot of tacks, she
made a toilet-table so neat and convenient that I thought she ought
to take it into our room and give the servant our wash-stand.

But all this time we had no girl, and as I had made up my mind
about the matter, I naturally grew impatient, and at last I
determined to go and get a girl myself.

So, one day at lunch-time, I went to an intelligence office in the
city. There I found a large room on the second floor, and some
ladies, and one or two men, sitting about, and a small room, back
of it, crowded with girls from eighteen to sixty-eight years old.
There were also girls upon the stairs, and girls in the hall below,