many before you."

It looked as if this poor woman had worked at step-cleaning herself for a
living, she was so pessimistic about it, and appeared to be so very
familiar with the whole subject. People never believe that a fortune is
to be made at any business in which they have been unsuccessful
themselves.

Fan was discouraged, but there was nothing else for her to do, and it was
hard for her to give up this one chance.

"Won't you let me try just a few days?" she asked at length.

"Yes, you can try; but it ain't no use, there's so many at it. In a few
days your clothes'll be dropping off you, and then what'll you do? It's
rough work, and not fit for a girl like you. I don't mind, because your
tea don't cost much, and it's company to have you here, as it ain't all
giving, but it's give-and-take like between us."

The same dreary words were repeated evening after evening, when Fan
returned from her daily peregrinations; but still the poor girl hoped
against hope, and clung desperately to the only occupation she had been
able to discover. It was a hard miserable life, and each succeeding day
only seemed to bring her nearer to the disastrous end prophesied by the
mournful laundrywoman of Dudley Grove. How weary she often was with
walking hour after hour, sometimes feeling so famished that she could
hardly refrain from picking up the orange-peels from the street to
appease the cruel pangs of hunger! And when she was more lucky and had
steps to clean, then the wet and grime of the hearthstone made her poor
gown more worn and soiled and evil-looking than ever, while her shoes