.One
of
the
ties
which
bound
him
down
to
the
gentle
humanities
of
earth
was
loosened
,
and
henceforward
the
neighbours
all
remarked
he
was
a
changed
man
.
His
gloom
and
his
sternness
became
habitual
instead
of
occasional
.
He
was
more
obstinate
.
But
never
to
Mary
.
Between
the
father
and
the
daughter
there
existed
in
full
force
that
mysterious
bond
which
unites
those
who
have
been
loved
by
one
who
is
now
dead
and
gone
.
While
he
was
harsh
and
silent
to
others
,
he
humoured
Mary
with
tender
love
;
she
had
more
of
her
own
way
than
is
common
in
any
rank
with
girls
of
her
age
.
Part
of
this
was
the
necessity
of
the
case
;
for
,
of
course
,
all
the
money
went
through
her
hands
,
and
the
household
arrangements
were
guided
by
her
will
and
pleasure
.
But
part
was
her
father
's
indulgence
,
for
he
left
her
,
with
full
trust
in
her
unusual
sense
and
spirit
,
to
choose
her
own
associates
,
and
her
own
times
for
seeing
them
.
With
all
this
,
Mary
had
not
her
father
's
confidence
in
the
matters
which
now
began
to
occupy
him
,
heart
and
soul
;
she
was
aware
that
he
had
joined
clubs
,
and
become
an
active
member
of
a
trades
'
union
,
but
it
was
hardly
likely
that
a
girl
of
Mary
's
age
(
even
when
two
or
three
years
had
elapsed
since
her
mother
's
death
)
should
care
much
for
the
differences
between
the
employers
and
the
employed
,
—
an
eternal
subject
for
agitation
in
the
manufacturing
districts
,
which
,
however
it
may
be
lulled
for
a
time
,
is
sure
to
break
forth
again
with
fresh
violence
at
any
depression
of
trade
,
showing
that
in
its
apparent
quiet
,
the
ashes
had
still
smouldered
in
the
breasts
of
a
few
.
Among
these
few
was
John
Barton
.
At
all
times
it
is
a
bewildering
thing
to
the
poor
weaver
to
see
his
employer
removing
from
house
to
house
,
each
one
grander
than
the
last
,
till
he
ends
in
building
one
more
magnificent
than
all
,
or
withdraws
his
money
from
the
concern
,
or
sells
his
mill
to
buy
an
estate
in
the
country
,
while
all
the
time
the
weaver
,
who
thinks
he
and
his
fellows
are
the
real
makers
of
this
wealth
,
is
struggling
on
for
bread
for
their
children
,
through
the
vicissitudes
of
lowered
wages
,
short
hours
,
fewer
hands
employed
,
etc.
And
when
he
knows
trade
is
bad
,
and
could
understand
(
at
least
partially
)
that
there
are
not
buyers
enough
in
the
market
to
purchase
the
goods
already
made
,
and
consequently
that
there
is
no
demand
for
more
;
when
he
would
bear
and
endure
much
without
complaining
,
could
he
also
see
that
his
employers
were
bearing
their
share
;
he
is
,
I
say
,
bewildered
and
(
to
use
his
own
word
)
"
aggravated
"
to
see
that
all
goes
on
just
as
usual
with
the
mill-owners
.
Large
houses
are
still
occupied
,
while
spinners
'
and
weavers
'
cottages
stand
empty
,
because
the
families
that
once
occupied
them
are
obliged
to
live
in
rooms
or
cellars
.
Carriages
still
roll
along
the
streets
,
concerts
are
still
crowded
by
subscribers
,
the
shops
for
expensive
luxuries
still
find
daily
customers
,
while
the
workman
loiters
away
his
unemployed
time
in
watching
these
things
,
and
thinking
of
the
pale
,
uncomplaining
wife
at
home
,
and
the
wailing
children
asking
in
vain
for
enough
of
food
,
of
the
sinking
health
,
of
the
dying
life
of
those
near
and
dear
to
him
.
The
contrast
is
too
great
.
Why
should
he
alone
suffer
from
bad
times
?
I
know
that
this
is
not
really
the
case
;
and
I
know
what
is
the
truth
in
such
matters
:
but
what
I
wish
to
impress
is
what
the
workman
feels
and
thinks
.
True
,
that
with
child-like
improvidence
,
good
times
will
often
dissipate
his
grumbling
,
and
make
him
forget
all
prudence
and
foresight
.
But
there
are
earnest
men
among
these
people
,
men
who
have
endured
wrongs
without
complaining
,
but
without
ever
forgetting
or
forgiving
those
whom
(
they
believe
)
have
caused
all
this
woe
.
Among
these
was
John
Barton
.
His
parents
had
suffered
,
his
mother
had
died
from
absolute
want
of
the
necessaries
of
life
.
He
himself
was
a
good
,
steady
workman
,
and
,
as
such
,
pretty
certain
of
steady
employment
.
But
he
spent
all
he
got
with
the
confidence
(
you
may
also
call
it
improvidence
)
of
one
who
was
willing
,
and
believed
himself
able
,
to
supply
all
his
wants
by
his
own
exertions
.
And
when
his
master
suddenly
failed
,
and
all
hands
in
that
mill
were
turned
back
,
one
Tuesday
morning
,
with
the
news
that
Mr.
Hunter
had
stopped
,
Barton
had
only
a
few
shillings
to
rely
on
;
but
he
had
good
heart
of
being
employed
at
some
other
mill
,
and
accordingly
,
before
returning
home
,
he
spent
some
hours
in
going
from
factory
to
factory
,
asking
for
work
.
But
at
every
mill
was
some
sign
of
depression
of
trade
;
some
were
working
short
hours
,
some
were
turning
off
hands
,
and
for
weeks
Barton
was
out
of
work
,
living
on
credit
.
It
was
during
this
time
his
little
son
,
the
apple
of
his
eye
,
the
cynosure
of
all
his
strong
power
of
love
,
fell
ill
of
the
scarlet
fever
.
They
dragged
him
through
the
crisis
,
but
his
life
hung
on
a
gossamer
thread
.
Every
thing
,
the
doctor
said
,
depended
on
good
nourishment
,
on
generous
living
,
to
keep
up
the
little
fellow
's
strength
,
in
the
prostration
in
which
the
fever
had
left
him
.
Mocking
words
!
when
the
commonest
food
in
the
house
would
not
furnish
one
little
meal
.
Barton
tried
credit
;
but
it
was
worn
out
at
the
little
provision
shops
,
which
were
now
suffering
in
their
turn
.
He
thought
it
would
be
no
sin
to
steal
,
and
would
have
stolen
;
but
he
could
not
get
the
opportunity
in
the
few
days
the
child
lingered
.
Hungry
himself
,
almost
to
an
animal
pitch
of
ravenousness
,
but
with
the
bodily
pain
swallowed
up
in
anxiety
for
his
little
sinking
lad
,
he
stood
at
one
of
the
shop
windows
where
all
edible
luxuries
are
displayed
;
haunches
of
venison
,
Stilton
cheeses
,
moulds
of
jelly
—
all
appetising
sights
to
the
common
passer
by
.
And
out
of
this
shop
came
Mrs.
Hunter
!
She
crossed
to
her
carriage
,
followed
by
the
shopman
loaded
with
purchases
for
a
party
.
The
door
was
quickly
slammed
to
,
and
she
drove
away
;
and
Barton
returned
home
with
a
bitter
spirit
of
wrath
in
his
heart
,
to
see
his
only
boy
a
corpse
!
You
can
fancy
,
now
,
the
hoards
of
vengeance
in
his
heart
against
the
employers
.
For
there
are
never
wanting
those
who
,
either
in
speech
or
in
print
,
find
it
their
interest
to
cherish
such
feelings
in
the
working
classes
;
who
know
how
and
when
to
rouse
the
dangerous
power
at
their
command
;
and
who
use
their
knowledge
with
unrelenting
purpose
to
either
party
.
So
while
Mary
took
her
own
way
,
growing
more
spirited
every
day
,
and
growing
in
her
beauty
too
,
her
father
was
chairman
at
many
a
trades
'
union
meeting
;
a
friend
of
delegates
,
and
ambitious
of
being
a
delegate
himself
;
a
Chartist
,
and
ready
to
do
any
thing
for
his
order
.
But
now
times
were
good
;
and
all
these
feelings
were
theoretical
,
not
practical
.
His
most
practical
thought
was
getting
Mary
apprenticed
to
a
dressmaker
;
for
he
had
never
left
off
disliking
a
factory
life
for
a
girl
,
on
more
accounts
than
one
.
Mary
must
do
something
.
The
factories
being
,
as
I
said
,
out
of
the
question
,
there
were
two
things
open
—
going
out
to
service
,
and
the
dressmaking
business
;
and
against
the
first
of
these
,
Mary
set
herself
with
all
the
force
of
her
strong
will
.
What
that
will
might
have
been
able
to
achieve
had
her
father
been
against
her
,
I
cannot
tell
;
but
he
disliked
the
idea
of
parting
with
her
,
who
was
the
light
of
his
hearth
,
the
voice
of
his
otherwise
silent
home
.
Besides
,
with
his
ideas
and
feelings
towards
the
higher
classes
,
he
considered
domestic
servitude
as
a
species
of
slavery
;
a
pampering
of
artificial
wants
on
the
one
side
,
a
giving-up
of
every
right
of
leisure
by
day
and
quiet
rest
by
night
on
the
other
.
How
far
his
strong
exaggerated
feelings
had
any
foundation
in
truth
,
it
is
for
you
to
judge
.
I
am
afraid
that
Mary
's
determination
not
to
go
to
service
arose
from
far
less
sensible
thoughts
on
the
subject
than
her
father
's
.
Three
years
of
independence
of
action
(
since
her
mother
's
death
such
a
time
had
now
elapsed
)
had
little
inclined
her
to
submit
to
rules
as
to
hours
and
associates
,
to
regulate
her
dress
by
a
mistress
's
ideas
of
propriety
,
to
lose
the
dear
feminine
privileges
of
gossiping
with
a
merry
neighbour
,
and
working
night
and
day
to
help
one
who
was
sorrowful
.
Besides
all
this
,
the
sayings
of
her
absent
,
her
mysterious
aunt
,
Esther
,
had
an
unacknowledged
influence
over
Mary
.
She
knew
she
was
very
pretty
;
the
factory
people
as
they
poured
from
the
mills
,
and
in
their
freedom
told
the
truth
(
whatever
it
might
be
)
to
every
passer-by
,
had
early
let
Mary
into
the
secret
of
her
beauty
.
If
their
remarks
had
fallen
on
an
unheeding
ear
,
there
were
always
young
men
enough
,
in
a
different
rank
from
her
own
,
who
were
willing
to
compliment
the
pretty
weaver
's
daughter
as
they
met
her
in
the
streets
.
Besides
,
trust
a
girl
of
sixteen
for
knowing
well
if
she
is
pretty
;
concerning
her
plainness
she
may
be
ignorant
.
So
with
this
consciousness
she
had
early
determined
that
her
beauty
should
make
her
a
lady
;
the
rank
she
coveted
the
more
for
her
father
's
abuse
;
the
rank
to
which
she
firmly
believed
her
lost
aunt
Esther
had
arrived
.
Now
,
while
a
servant
must
often
drudge
and
be
dirty
,
must
be
known
as
a
servant
by
all
who
visited
at
her
master
's
house
,
a
dressmaker
's
apprentice
must
(
or
so
Mary
thought
)
be
always
dressed
with
a
certain
regard
to
appearance
;
must
never
soil
her
hands
,
and
need
never
redden
or
dirty
her
face
with
hard
labour
.
Before
my
telling
you
so
truly
what
folly
Mary
felt
or
thought
,
injures
her
without
redemption
in
your
opinion
,
think
what
are
the
silly
fancies
of
sixteen
years
of
age
in
every
class
,
and
under
all
circumstances
.
The
end
of
all
the
thoughts
of
father
and
daughter
was
,
as
I
said
before
,
Mary
was
to
be
a
dressmaker
;
and
her
ambition
prompted
her
unwilling
father
to
apply
at
all
the
first
establishments
,
to
know
on
what
terms
of
painstaking
and
zeal
his
daughter
might
be
admitted
into
ever
so
humble
a
workwoman
's
situation
.
But
high
premiums
were
asked
at
all
;
poor
man
!
he
might
have
known
that
without
giving
up
a
day
's
work
to
ascertain
the
fact
.
He
would
have
been
indignant
,
indeed
,
had
he
known
that
if
Mary
had
accompanied
him
,
the
case
might
have
been
rather
different
,
as
her
beauty
would
have
made
her
desirable
as
a
show-woman
.
Then
he
tried
second-rate
places
;
at
all
the
payment
of
a
sum
of
money
was
necessary
,
and
money
he
had
none
.
Disheartened
and
angry
he
went
home
at
night
,
declaring
it
was
time
lost
;
that
dressmaking
was
at
all
events
a
toilsome
business
,
and
not
worth
learning
.
Mary
saw
that
the
grapes
were
sour
,
and
the
next
day
set
out
herself
,
as
her
father
could
not
afford
to
lose
another
day
's
work
;
and
before
night
(
as
yesterday
's
experience
had
considerably
lowered
her
ideas
)
she
had
engaged
herself
as
apprentice
(
so
called
,
though
there
were
no
deeds
or
indentures
to
the
bond
)
to
a
certain
Miss
Simmonds
,
milliner
and
dressmaker
,
in
a
respectable
little
street
leading
off
Ardwick
Green
,
where
her
business
was
duly
announced
in
gold
letters
on
a
black
ground
,
enclosed
in
a
bird's-eye
maple
frame
,
and
stuck
in
the
front
parlour
window
;
where
the
workwomen
were
called
"
her
young
ladies
;
"
and
where
Mary
was
to
work
for
two
years
without
any
remuneration
,
on
consideration
of
being
taught
the
business
;
and
where
afterwards
she
was
to
dine
and
have
tea
,
with
a
small
quarterly
salary
(
paid
quarterly
,
because
so
much
more
genteel
than
by
the
week
)
,
a
very
small
one
,
divisible
into
a
minute
weekly
pittance
.
In
summer
she
was
to
be
there
by
six
,
bringing
her
day
's
meals
during
the
first
two
years
;
in
winter
she
was
not
to
come
till
after
breakfast
.
Her
time
for
returning
home
at
night
must
always
depend
upon
the
quantity
of
work
Miss
Simmonds
had
to
do
.
And
Mary
was
satisfied
;
and
seeing
this
,
her
father
was
contented
too
,
although
his
words
were
grumbling
and
morose
;
but
Mary
knew
his
ways
,
and
coaxed
and
planned
for
the
future
so
cheerily
,
that
both
went
to
bed
with
easy
if
not
happy
hearts
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
OLD
ALICE
'S
HISTORY
.
To
envy
nought
beneath
the
ample
sky
;
To
mourn
no
evil
deed
,
no
hour
mis-spent
;
And
,
like
a
living
violet
,
silently
Return
in
sweets
to
Heaven
what
goodness
lent
,
Then
bend
beneath
the
chastening
shower
content
.
Elliott
.
Another
year
passed
on
.
The
waves
of
time
seemed
long
since
to
have
swept
away
all
trace
of
poor
Mary
Barton
.
But
her
husband
still
thought
of
her
,
although
with
a
calm
and
quiet
grief
,
in
the
silent
watches
of
the
night
:
and
Mary
would
start
from
her
hard-earned
sleep
,
and
think
in
her
half-dreamy
,
half-awakened
state
,
she
saw
her
mother
stand
by
her
bed-side
,
as
she
used
to
do
"
in
the
days
of
long-ago
;
"
with
a
shaded
candle
and
an
expression
of
ineffable
tenderness
,
while
she
looked
on
her
sleeping
child
.
But
Mary
rubbed
her
eyes
and
sank
back
on
her
pillow
,
awake
,
and
knowing
it
was
a
dream
;
and
still
,
in
all
her
troubles
and
perplexities
,
her
heart
called
on
her
mother
for
aid
,
and
she
thought
,
"
If
mother
had
but
lived
,
she
would
have
helped
me
.
"
Forgetting
that
the
woman
's
sorrows
are
far
more
difficult
to
mitigate
than
a
child
's
,
even
by
the
mighty
power
of
a
mother
's
love
;
and
unconscious
of
the
fact
,
that
she
was
far
superior
in
sense
and
spirit
to
the
mother
she
mourned
.
Aunt
Esther
was
still
mysteriously
absent
,
and
people
had
grown
weary
of
wondering
and
began
to
forget
.
Barton
still
attended
his
club
,
and
was
an
active
member
of
a
trades
'
union
;
indeed
,
more
frequently
than
ever
,
since
the
time
of
Mary
's
return
in
the
evening
was
so
uncertain
;
and
,
as
she
occasionally
,
in
very
busy
times
,
remained
all
night
.
His
chiefest
friend
was
still
George
Wilson
,
although
he
had
no
great
sympathy
on
the
questions
that
agitated
Barton
's
mind
.
Still
their
hearts
were
bound
by
old
ties
to
one
another
,
and
the
remembrance
of
former
times
gave
an
unspoken
charm
to
their
meetings
.
Our
old
friend
,
the
cub-like
lad
,
Jem
Wilson
,
had
shot
up
into
the
powerful
,
well-made
young
man
,
with
a
sensible
face
enough
;
nay
,
a
face
that
might
have
been
handsome
,
had
it
not
been
here
and
there
marked
by
the
small-pox
.
He
worked
with
one
of
the
great
firms
of
engineers
,
who
send
from
out
their
towns
of
workshops
engines
and
machinery
to
the
dominions
of
the
Czar
and
the
Sultan
.
His
father
and
mother
were
never
weary
of
praising
Jem
,
at
all
which
commendation
pretty
Mary
Barton
would
toss
her
head
,
seeing
clearly
enough
that
they
wished
her
to
understand
what
a
good
husband
he
would
make
,
and
to
favour
his
love
,
about
which
he
never
dared
to
speak
,
whatever
eyes
and
looks
revealed
.
One
day
,
in
the
early
winter
time
,
when
people
were
provided
with
warm
substantial
gowns
,
not
likely
soon
to
wear
out
,
and
when
,
accordingly
,
business
was
rather
slack
at
Miss
Simmonds
'
,
Mary
met
Alice
Wilson
,
coming
home
from
her
half-day
's
work
at
some
tradesman
's
house
.
Mary
and
Alice
had
always
liked
each
other
;
indeed
,
Alice
looked
with
particular
interest
on
the
motherless
girl
,
the
daughter
of
her
whose
forgiving
kiss
had
so
comforted
her
in
many
sleepless
hours
.
So
there
was
a
warm
greeting
between
the
tidy
old
woman
and
the
blooming
young
work-girl
;
and
then
Alice
ventured
to
ask
if
she
would
come
in
and
take
her
tea
with
her
that
very
evening
.
"
You
'll
think
it
dull
enough
to
come
just
to
sit
with
an
old
woman
like
me
,
but
there
's
a
tidy
young
lass
as
lives
in
the
floor
above
,
who
does
plain
work
,
and
now
and
then
a
bit
in
your
own
line
,
Mary
;
she
's
grand-daughter
to
old
Job
Legh
,
a
spinner
,
and
a
good
girl
she
is
.
Do
come
,
Mary
!
I
've
a
terrible
wish
to
make
you
known
to
each
other
.
She
's
a
genteel-looking
lass
,
too
.
"
At
the
beginning
of
this
speech
Mary
had
feared
the
intended
visitor
was
to
be
no
other
than
Alice
's
nephew
;
but
Alice
was
too
delicate-minded
to
plan
a
meeting
,
even
for
her
dear
Jem
,
when
one
would
have
been
an
unwilling
party
;
and
Mary
,
relieved
from
her
apprehension
by
the
conclusion
,
gladly
agreed
to
come
.
How
busy
Alice
felt
!
it
was
not
often
she
had
any
one
to
tea
;
and
now
her
sense
of
the
duties
of
a
hostess
were
almost
too
much
for
her
.
She
made
haste
home
,
and
lighted
the
unwilling
fire
,
borrowing
a
pair
of
bellows
to
make
it
burn
the
faster
.
For
herself
she
was
always
patient
;
she
let
the
coals
take
their
time
.
Then
she
put
on
her
pattens
,
and
went
to
fill
her
kettle
at
the
pump
in
the
next
court
,
and
on
the
way
she
borrowed
a
cup
;
of
odd
saucers
she
had
plenty
,
serving
as
plates
when
occasion
required
.
Half
an
ounce
of
tea
and
a
quarter
of
a
pound
of
butter
went
far
to
absorb
her
morning
's
wages
;
but
this
was
an
unusual
occasion
.
In
general
,
she
used
herb-tea
for
herself
,
when
at
home
,
unless
some
thoughtful
mistress
made
her
a
present
of
tea-leaves
from
her
more
abundant
household
.
The
two
chairs
drawn
out
for
visitors
,
and
duly
swept
and
dusted
;
an
old
board
arranged
with
some
skill
upon
two
old
candle-boxes
set
on
end
(
rather
ricketty
to
be
sure
,
but
she
knew
the
seat
of
old
,
and
when
to
sit
lightly
;
indeed
the
whole
affair
was
more
for
apparent
dignity
of
position
than
for
any
real
ease
)
;
a
little
,
very
little
round
table
put
just
before
the
fire
,
which
by
this
time
was
blazing
merrily
;
her
unlackered
,
ancient
,
third-hand
tea-tray
arranged
with
a
black
tea-pot
,
two
cups
with
a
red
and
white
pattern
,
and
one
with
the
old
friendly
willow
pattern
,
and
saucers
,
not
to
match
(
on
one
of
the
extra
supply
,
the
lump
of
butter
flourished
away
)
;
all
these
preparations
complete
,
Alice
began
to
look
about
her
with
satisfaction
,
and
a
sort
of
wonder
what
more
could
be
done
to
add
to
the
comfort
of
the
evening
.
She
took
one
of
the
chairs
away
from
its
appropriate
place
by
the
table
,
and
putting
it
close
to
the
broad
large
hanging
shelf
I
told
you
about
when
I
first
described
her
cellar-dwelling
,
and
mounting
on
it
,
she
pulled
towards
her
an
old
deal
box
,
and
took
thence
a
quantity
of
the
oat
bread
of
the
north
,
the
clap-bread
of
Cumberland
and
Westmoreland
,
and
descending
carefully
with
the
thin
cakes
threatening
to
break
to
pieces
in
her
hand
,
she
placed
them
on
the
bare
table
,
with
the
belief
that
her
visitors
would
have
an
unusual
treat
in
eating
the
bread
of
her
childhood
.
She
brought
out
a
good
piece
of
a
four-pound
loaf
of
common
household
bread
as
well
,
and
then
sat
down
to
rest
,
really
to
rest
,
and
not
to
pretend
,
on
one
of
the
rush-bottomed
chairs
.
The
candle
was
ready
to
be
lighted
,
the
kettle
boiled
,
the
tea
was
awaiting
its
doom
in
its
paper
parcel
;
all
was
ready
.
A
knock
at
the
door
!
It
was
Margaret
,
the
young
workwoman
who
lived
in
the
rooms
above
,
who
having
heard
the
bustle
,
and
the
subsequent
quiet
,
began
to
think
it
was
time
to
pay
her
visit
below
.
She
was
a
sallow
,
unhealthy
,
sweet-looking
young
woman
,
with
a
careworn
look
;
her
dress
was
humble
and
very
simple
,
consisting
of
some
kind
of
dark
stuff
gown
,
her
neck
being
covered
by
a
drab
shawl
or
large
handkerchief
,
pinned
down
behind
and
at
the
sides
in
front
.
The
old
woman
gave
her
a
hearty
greeting
,
and
made
her
sit
down
on
the
chair
she
had
just
left
,
while
she
balanced
herself
on
the
board
seat
,
in
order
that
Margaret
might
think
it
was
quite
her
free
and
independent
choice
to
sit
there
.
"
I
cannot
think
what
keeps
Mary
Barton
.
She
's
quite
grand
with
her
late
hours
,
"
said
Alice
,
as
Mary
still
delayed
.
The
truth
was
,
Mary
was
dressing
herself
;
yes
,
to
come
to
poor
old
Alice
's
—
she
thought
it
worth
while
to
consider
what
gown
she
should
put
on
.
It
was
not
for
Alice
,
however
,
you
may
be
pretty
sure
;
no
,
they
knew
each
other
too
well
.
But
Mary
liked
making
an
impression
,
and
in
this
it
must
be
owned
she
was
pretty
often
gratified
—
and
there
was
this
strange
girl
to
consider
just
now
.
So
she
put
on
her
pretty
new
blue
merino
,
made
tight
to
her
throat
,
her
little
linen
collar
and
linen
cuffs
,
and
sallied
forth
to
impress
poor
gentle
Margaret
.
She
certainly
succeeded
.
Alice
,
who
never
thought
much
about
beauty
,
had
never
told
Margaret
how
pretty
Mary
was
;
and
,
as
she
came
in
half-blushing
at
her
own
self-consciousness
,
Margaret
could
hardly
take
her
eyes
off
her
,
and
Mary
put
down
her
long
black
lashes
with
a
sort
of
dislike
of
the
very
observation
she
had
taken
such
pains
to
secure
.
Can
you
fancy
the
bustle
of
Alice
to
make
the
tea
,
to
pour
it
out
,
and
sweeten
it
to
their
liking
,
to
help
and
help
again
to
clap-bread
and
bread-and-butter
?
Can
you
fancy
the
delight
with
which
she
watched
her
piled-up
clap-bread
disappear
before
the
hungry
girls
,
and
listened
to
the
praises
of
her
home-remembered
dainty
?
"
My
mother
used
to
send
me
some
clap-bread
by
any
north-country
person
—
bless
her
!
She
knew
how
good
such
things
taste
when
far
away
from
home
.
Not
but
what
every
one
likes
it
.
When
I
was
in
service
my
fellow-servants
were
always
glad
to
share
with
me
.
Eh
,
it
's
a
long
time
ago
,
yon
.
"
"
Do
tell
us
about
it
,
Alice
,
"
said
Margaret
.
"
Why
,
lass
,
there
's
nothing
to
tell
.
There
was
more
mouths
at
home
than
could
be
fed
.
Tom
,
that
's
Will
's
father
(
you
do
n't
know
Will
,
but
he
's
a
sailor
to
foreign
parts
)
,
had
come
to
Manchester
,
and
sent
word
what
terrible
lots
of
work
was
to
be
had
,
both
for
lads
and
lasses
.
So
father
sent
George
first
(
you
know
George
,
well
enough
,
Mary
)
,
and
then
work
was
scarce
out
toward
Burton
,
where
we
lived
,
and
father
said
I
maun
try
and
get
a
place
.
And
George
wrote
as
how
wages
were
far
higher
in
Manchester
than
Milnthorpe
or
Lancaster
;
and
,
lasses
,
I
was
young
and
thoughtless
,
and
thought
it
was
a
fine
thing
to
go
so
far
from
home
.
So
,
one
day
,
th
'
butcher
he
brings
us
a
letter
fra
George
,
to
say
he
'd
heard
on
a
place
—
and
I
was
all
agog
to
go
,
and
father
was
pleased
,
like
;
but
mother
said
little
,
and
that
little
was
very
quiet
.
I
've
often
thought
she
was
a
bit
hurt
to
see
me
so
ready
to
go
—
God
forgive
me
!
But
she
packed
up
my
clothes
,
and
some
o
'
the
better
end
of
her
own
as
would
fit
me
,
in
yon
little
paper
box
up
there
—
it
's
good
for
nought
now
,
but
I
would
liefer
live
without
fire
than
break
it
up
to
be
burnt
;
and
yet
it
's
going
on
for
eighty
years
old
,
for
she
had
it
when
she
was
a
girl
,
and
brought
all
her
clothes
in
it
to
father
's
,
when
they
were
married
.
But
,
as
I
was
saying
,
she
did
not
cry
,
though
the
tears
was
often
in
her
eyes
;
and
I
seen
her
looking
after
me
down
the
lane
as
long
as
I
were
in
sight
,
with
her
hand
shading
her
eyes
—
and
that
were
the
last
look
I
ever
had
on
her
.
"
Alice
knew
that
before
long
she
should
go
to
that
mother
;
and
,
besides
,
the
griefs
and
bitter
woes
of
youth
have
worn
themselves
out
before
we
grow
old
;
but
she
looked
so
sorrowful
that
the
girls
caught
her
sadness
,
and
mourned
for
the
poor
woman
who
had
been
dead
and
gone
so
many
years
ago
.
"
Did
you
never
see
her
again
,
Alice
?
Did
you
never
go
home
while
she
was
alive
?
"
asked
Mary
.
"
No
,
nor
since
.
Many
a
time
and
oft
have
I
planned
to
go
.
I
plan
it
yet
,
and
hope
to
go
home
again
before
it
please
God
to
take
me
.
I
used
to
try
and
save
money
enough
to
go
for
a
week
when
I
was
in
service
;
but
first
one
thing
came
,
and
then
another
.
First
,
missis
's
children
fell
ill
of
the
measles
,
just
when
th
'
week
I
'd
ask
'd
for
came
,
and
I
could
n't
leave
them
,
for
one
and
all
cried
for
me
to
nurse
them
.
Then
missis
herself
fell
sick
,
and
I
could
go
less
than
ever
.
For
,
you
see
,
they
kept
a
little
shop
,
and
he
drank
,
and
missis
and
me
was
all
there
was
to
mind
children
,
and
shop
,
and
all
,
and
cook
and
wash
besides
.
"
Mary
was
glad
she
had
not
gone
into
service
,
and
said
so
.
"
Eh
,
lass
!
thou
little
knows
the
pleasure
o
'
helping
others
;
I
was
as
happy
there
as
could
be
;
almost
as
happy
as
I
was
at
home
.
Well
,
but
next
year
I
thought
I
could
go
at
a
leisure
time
,
and
missis
telled
me
I
should
have
a
fortnight
then
,
and
I
used
to
sit
up
all
that
winter
working
hard
at
patchwork
,
to
have
a
quilt
of
my
own
making
to
take
to
my
mother
.
But
master
died
,
and
missis
went
away
fra
Manchester
,
and
I
'd
to
look
out
for
a
place
again
.
"
"
Well
,
but
,
"
interrupted
Mary
,
"
I
should
have
thought
that
was
the
best
time
to
go
home
.
"
"
No
,
I
thought
not
.
You
see
it
was
a
different
thing
going
home
for
a
week
on
a
visit
,
may
be
with
money
in
my
pocket
to
give
father
a
lift
,
to
going
home
to
be
a
burden
to
him
.
Besides
,
how
could
I
hear
o
'
a
place
there
?
Anyways
I
thought
it
best
to
stay
,
though
perhaps
it
might
have
been
better
to
ha
'
gone
,
for
then
I
should
ha
'
seen
mother
again
;
"
and
the
poor
old
woman
looked
puzzled
.
"
I
'm
sure
you
did
what
you
thought
right
,
"
said
Margaret
,
gently
.
"
Ay
,
lass
,
that
's
it
,
"
said
Alice
,
raising
her
head
and
speaking
more
cheerfully
.
"
That
's
the
thing
,
and
then
let
the
Lord
send
what
He
sees
fit
;
not
but
that
I
grieved
sore
,
oh
,
sore
and
sad
,
when
toward
spring
next
year
,
when
my
quilt
were
all
done
to
th
'
lining
,
George
came
in
one
evening
to
tell
me
mother
was
dead
.
I
cried
many
a
night
at
after
;
[
3
]
I
'd
no
time
for
crying
by
day
,
for
that
missis
was
terrible
strict
;
she
would
not
hearken
to
my
going
to
th
'
funeral
;
and
indeed
I
would
have
been
too
late
,
for
George
set
off
that
very
night
by
th
'
coach
,
and
th
'
letter
had
been
kept
or
summut
(
posts
were
not
like
th
'
posts
now-a-days
)
,
and
he
found
the
burial
all
over
,
and
father
talking
o
'
flitting
;
for
he
could
n't
abide
the
cottage
after
mother
was
gone
.
"
"
Was
it
a
pretty
place
?
"
asked
Mary
.
"
Pretty
,
lass
!
I
never
seed
such
a
bonny
bit
anywhere
.
You
see
there
are
hills
there
as
seem
to
go
up
into
th
'
skies
,
not
near
may
be
,
but
that
makes
them
all
the
bonnier
.
I
used
to
think
they
were
the
golden
hills
of
heaven
,
about
which
my
mother
sang
when
I
was
a
child
,
'
Yon
are
the
golden
hills
o
'
heaven
,
Where
ye
sall
never
win
.
'
Something
about
a
ship
and
a
lover
that
should
hae
been
na
lover
,
the
ballad
was
.
Well
,
and
near
our
cottage
were
rocks
.
Eh
,
lasses
!
ye
do
n't
know
what
rocks
are
in
Manchester
!
Gray
pieces
o
'
stone
as
large
as
a
house
,
all
covered
over
wi
'
moss
of
different
colours
,
some
yellow
,
some
brown
;
and
the
ground
beneath
them
knee-deep
in
purple
heather
,
smelling
sae
sweet
and
fragrant
,
and
the
low
music
of
the
humming-bee
for
ever
sounding
among
it
.
Mother
used
to
send
Sally
and
me
out
to
gather
ling
and
heather
for
besoms
,
and
it
was
such
pleasant
work
!
We
used
to
come
home
of
an
evening
loaded
so
as
you
could
not
see
us
,
for
all
that
it
was
so
light
to
carry
.
And
then
mother
would
make
us
sit
down
under
the
old
hawthorn
tree
(
where
we
used
to
make
our
house
among
the
great
roots
as
stood
above
th
'
ground
)
,
to
pick
and
tie
up
the
heather
.
It
seems
all
like
yesterday
,
and
yet
it
's
a
long
long
time
agone
.
Poor
sister
Sally
has
been
in
her
grave
this
forty
year
and
more
.
But
I
often
wonder
if
the
hawthorn
is
standing
yet
,
and
if
the
lasses
still
go
to
gather
heather
,
as
we
did
many
and
many
a
year
past
and
gone
.
I
sicken
at
heart
to
see
the
old
spot
once
again
.
May
be
next
summer
I
may
set
off
,
if
God
spares
me
to
see
next
summer
.
"
"
Why
have
you
never
been
in
all
these
many
years
?
"
asked
Mary
.
"
Why
,
lass
!
first
one
wanted
me
and
then
another
;
and
I
could
n't
go
without
money
either
,
and
I
got
very
poor
at
times
.
Tom
was
a
scapegrace
,
poor
fellow
,
and
always
wanted
help
of
one
kind
or
another
;
and
his
wife
(
for
I
think
scapegraces
are
always
married
long
before
steady
folk
)
was
but
a
helpless
kind
of
body
.
She
were
always
ailing
,
and
he
were
always
in
trouble
;
so
I
had
enough
to
do
with
my
hands
and
my
money
too
,
for
that
matter
.
They
died
within
twelvemonth
of
each
other
,
leaving
one
lad
(
they
had
had
seven
,
but
the
Lord
had
taken
six
to
Himself
)
,
Will
,
as
I
was
telling
you
on
;
and
I
took
him
myself
,
and
left
service
to
make
a
bit
on
a
home-place
for
him
,
and
a
fine
lad
he
was
,
the
very
spit
of
his
father
as
to
looks
,
only
steadier
.
For
he
was
steady
,
although
nought
would
serve
him
but
going
to
sea
.
I
tried
all
I
could
to
set
him
again
a
sailor
's
life
.
Says
I
,
'
Folks
is
as
sick
as
dogs
all
the
time
they
're
at
sea
.
Your
own
mother
telled
me
(
for
she
came
from
foreign
parts
,
being
a
Manx
woman
)
that
she
'd
ha
thanked
any
one
for
throwing
her
into
the
water
.
'
Nay
,
I
sent
him
a
'
the
way
to
Runcorn
by
th
'
Duke
's
canal
,
that
he
might
know
what
th
'
sea
were
;
and
I
looked
to
see
him
come
back
as
white
as
a
sheet
wi
'
vomiting
.
But
the
lad
went
on
to
Liverpool
and
saw
real
ships
,
and
came
back
more
set
than
ever
on
being
a
sailor
,
and
he
said
as
how
he
had
never
been
sick
at
all
,
and
thought
he
could
stand
the
sea
pretty
well
.
So
I
telled
him
he
mun
do
as
he
liked
;
and
he
thanked
me
and
kissed
me
,
for
all
I
was
very
frabbit
[
4
]
with
him
;
and
now
he
's
gone
to
South
America
,
at
t'other
side
of
the
sun
,
they
tell
me
.
"
Mary
stole
a
glance
at
Margaret
to
see
what
she
thought
of
Alice
's
geography
;
but
Margaret
looked
so
quiet
and
demure
,
that
Mary
was
in
doubt
if
she
were
not
really
ignorant
.
Not
that
Mary
's
knowledge
was
very
profound
,
but
she
had
seen
a
terrestrial
globe
,
and
knew
where
to
find
France
and
the
continents
on
a
map
.
After
this
long
talking
Alice
seemed
lost
for
a
time
in
reverie
;
and
the
girls
,
respecting
her
thoughts
,
which
they
suspected
had
wandered
to
the
home
and
scenes
of
her
childhood
,
were
silent
.
All
at
once
she
recalled
her
duties
as
hostess
,
and
by
an
effort
brought
back
her
mind
to
the
present
time
.
"
Margaret
,
thou
must
let
Mary
hear
thee
sing
.
I
do
n't
know
about
fine
music
myself
,
but
folks
say
Margaret
is
a
rare
singer
,
and
I
know
she
can
make
me
cry
at
any
time
by
singing
'
Th
'
Owdham
Weaver
.
'
Do
sing
that
,
Margaret
,
there
's
a
good
lass
.
"
With
a
faint
smile
,
as
if
amused
at
Alice
's
choice
of
a
song
,
Margaret
began
.
Do
you
know
"
The
Oldham
Weaver
?
"
Not
unless
you
are
Lancashire
born
and
bred
,
for
it
is
a
complete
Lancashire
ditty
.
I
will
copy
it
for
you
.
THE
OLDHAM
WEAVER
.
Oi
'm
a
poor
cotton-weyver
,
as
mony
a
one
knoowas
,
Oi
've
nowt
for
t
'
yeat
,
an
'
oi
've
woorn
eawt
my
clooas
,
Yo'ad
hardly
gi
'
tuppence
for
aw
as
oi
've
on
,
My
clogs
are
boath
brosten
,
an
'
stuckins
oi
've
none
,
Yo
'd
think
it
wur
hard
,
To
be
browt
into
th
'
warld
,
To
be
—
clemmed
,
[
5
]
an
'
do
th
'
best
as
yo
con
.
II
.
Owd
Dicky
o
'
Billy
's
kept
telling
me
lung
,
Wee
s
'd
ha
'
better
toimes
if
I
'd
but
howd
my
tung
,
Oi
've
howden
my
tung
,
till
oi
've
near
stopped
my
breath
,
Oi
think
i
'
my
heeart
oi'se
soon
clem
to
deeath
,
Owd
Dicky
's
weel
crammed
,
He
never
wur
clemmed
,
An
'
he
ne'er
picked
ower
i
'
his
loife
.
[
6
]
III
.
We
tow'rt
on
six
week
—
thinking
aitch
day
wur
th
'
last
,
We
shifted
,
an
'
shifted
,
till
neaw
we
're
quoite
fast
;
We
lived
upo
'
nettles
,
whoile
nettles
wur
good
,
An
'
Waterloo
porridge
the
best
o
'
eawr
food
,
Oi
'm
tellin
'
yo
'
true
,
Oi
can
find
folk
enow
,
As
wur
livin
'
na
better
nor
me
.
IV
.
Owd
Billy
o
'
Dans
sent
th
'
baileys
one
day
,
Fur
a
shop
deebt
oi
eawd
him
,
as
oi
could
na
pay
,
But
he
wur
too
lat
,
fur
owd
Billy
o
'
th
'
Bent
,
Had
sowd
th
'
tit
an
'
cart
,
an
'
ta'en
goods
fur
th
'
rent
,
We
'd
neawt
left
bo
'
th
'
owd
stoo
'
,
That
wur
seeats
fur
two
,
An
'
on
it
ceawred
Marget
an
'
me
.
Then
t
'
baileys
leuked
reawnd
as
sloy
as
a
meawse
,
When
they
seed
as
aw
t
'
goods
were
ta'en
eawt
o
'
t
'
heawse
,
Says
one
chap
to
th
'
tother
,
"
Aws
gone
,
theaw
may
see
;
"
Says
oi
,
"
Ne'er
freet
,
mon
,
yeaur
welcome
ta
'
me
.
"
They
made
no
moor
ado
But
whopped
up
th
'
eawd
stoo
'
,
An
'
we
booath
leet
,
whack
—
upo
'
t
'
flags
!
VI
.
Then
oi
said
to
eawr
Marget
,
as
we
lay
upo
'
t
'
floor
,
"
We
's
never
be
lower
i
'
this
warld
,
oi
'm
sure
,
If
ever
things
awtern
,
oi
'm
sure
they
mun
mend
,
For
oi
think
i
'
my
heart
we
're
booath
at
t
'
far
eend
;
For
meeat
we
ha
'
none
;
Nor
looms
t
'
weyve
on
,
—
Edad
!
they
're
as
good
lost
as
fund
.
"
VII
.
Eawr
Marget
declares
had
hoo
cloo'as
to
put
on
,
Hoo
'd
goo
up
to
Lunnon
an
'
talk
to
th
'
greet
mon
;
An
'
if
things
were
na
awtered
when
there
hoo
had
been
,
Hoo
's
fully
resolved
t
'
sew
up
meawth
an
'
eend
;
Hoo
's
neawt
to
say
again
t
'
king
,
But
hoo
loikes
a
fair
thing
,
An
'
hoo
says
hoo
can
tell
when
hoo
's
hurt
.
The
air
to
which
this
is
sung
is
a
kind
of
droning
recitative
,
depending
much
on
expression
and
feeling
.
To
read
it
,
it
may
,
perhaps
,
seem
humorous
;
but
it
is
that
humour
which
is
near
akin
to
pathos
,
and
to
those
who
have
seen
the
distress
it
describes
,
it
is
a
powerfully
pathetic
song
.
Margaret
had
both
witnessed
the
destitution
,
and
had
the
heart
to
feel
it
;
and
withal
,
her
voice
was
of
that
rich
and
rare
order
,
which
does
not
require
any
great
compass
of
notes
to
make
itself
appreciated
.
Alice
had
her
quiet
enjoyment
of
tears
.
But
Margaret
,
with
fixed
eye
,
and
earnest
,
dreamy
look
,
seemed
to
become
more
and
more
absorbed
in
realising
to
herself
the
woe
she
had
been
describing
,
and
which
she
felt
might
at
that
very
moment
be
suffering
and
hopeless
within
a
short
distance
of
their
comparative
comfort
.
Suddenly
she
burst
forth
with
all
the
power
of
her
magnificent
voice
,
as
if
a
prayer
from
her
very
heart
for
all
who
were
in
distress
,
in
the
grand
supplication
,
"
Lord
,
remember
David
.
"
Mary
held
her
breath
,
unwilling
to
lose
a
note
,
it
was
so
clear
,
so
perfect
,
so
imploring
.
A
far
more
correct
musician
than
Mary
might
have
paused
with
equal
admiration
of
the
really
scientific
knowledge
,
with
which
the
poor
depressed-looking
young
needle-woman
used
her
superb
and
flexile
voice
.
Deborah
Travers
herself
(
once
an
Oldham
factory
girl
,
and
afterwards
the
darling
of
fashionable
crowds
as
Mrs.
Knyvett
)
might
have
owned
a
sister
in
her
art
.
She
stopped
;
and
with
tears
of
holy
sympathy
in
her
eyes
,
Alice
thanked
the
songstress
,
who
resumed
her
calm
,
demure
manner
,
much
to
Mary
's
wonder
,
for
she
looked
at
her
unweariedly
,
as
if
surprised
that
the
hidden
power
should
not
be
perceived
in
the
outward
appearance
.
When
Alice
's
little
speech
of
thanks
was
over
,
there
was
quiet
enough
to
hear
a
fine
,
though
rather
quavering
,
male
voice
,
going
over
again
one
or
two
strains
of
Margaret
's
song
.
"
That
's
grandfather
!
"
exclaimed
she
.
"
I
must
be
going
,
for
he
said
he
should
not
be
at
home
till
past
nine
.
"
"
Well
,
I
'll
not
say
nay
,
for
I
've
to
be
up
by
four
for
a
very
heavy
wash
at
Mrs.
Simpson
's
;
but
I
shall
be
terrible
glad
to
see
you
again
at
any
time
,
lasses
;
and
I
hope
you
'll
take
to
one
another
.
"
As
the
girls
ran
up
the
cellar
steps
together
,
Margaret
said
:
"
Just
step
in
and
see
grandfather
.
I
should
like
him
to
see
you
.
"
And
Mary
consented
.
CHAPTER
V.
THE
MILL
ON
FIRE
—
JEM
WILSON
TO
THE
RESCUE
.
Learned
he
was
;
nor
bird
,
nor
insect
flew
,
But
he
its
leafy
home
and
history
knew
;
Nor
wild-flower
decked
the
rock
,
nor
moss
the
well
,
But
he
its
name
and
qualities
could
tell
.
Elliott
.
There
is
a
class
of
men
in
Manchester
,
unknown
even
to
many
of
the
inhabitants
,
and
whose
existence
will
probably
be
doubted
by
many
,
who
yet
may
claim
kindred
with
all
the
noble
names
that
science
recognises
.
I
said
"
in
Manchester
,
"
but
they
are
scattered
all
over
the
manufacturing
districts
of
Lancashire
.
In
the
neighbourhood
of
Oldham
there
are
weavers
,
common
hand-loom
weavers
,
who
throw
the
shuttle
with
unceasing
sound
,
though
Newton
's
"
Principia
"
lie
open
on
the
loom
,
to
be
snatched
at
in
work
hours
,
but
revelled
over
in
meal
times
,
or
at
night
.
Mathematical
problems
are
received
with
interest
,
and
studied
with
absorbing
attention
by
many
a
broad-spoken
,
common-looking
,
factory-hand
.
It
is
perhaps
less
astonishing
that
the
more
popularly
interesting
branches
of
natural
history
have
their
warm
and
devoted
followers
among
this
class
.
There
are
botanists
among
them
,
equally
familiar
with
either
the
Linnæan
or
the
Natural
system
,
who
know
the
name
and
habitat
of
every
plant
within
a
day
's
walk
from
their
dwellings
;
who
steal
the
holiday
of
a
day
or
two
when
any
particular
plant
should
be
in
flower
,
and
tying
up
their
simple
food
in
their
pocket-handkerchiefs
,
set
off
with
single
purpose
to
fetch
home
the
humble-looking
weed
.
There
are
entomologists
,
who
may
be
seen
with
a
rude-looking
net
,
ready
to
catch
any
winged
insect
,
or
a
kind
of
dredge
,
with
which
they
rake
the
green
and
slimy
pools
;
practical
,
shrewd
,
hard-working
men
,
who
pore
over
every
new
specimen
with
real
scientific
delight
.
Nor
is
it
the
common
and
more
obvious
divisions
of
Entomology
and
Botany
that
alone
attract
these
earnest
seekers
after
knowledge
.
Perhaps
it
may
be
owing
to
the
great
annual
town-holiday
of
Whitsun-week
so
often
falling
in
May
or
June
that
the
two
great
,
beautiful
families
of
Ephemeridæ
and
Phryganidæ
have
been
so
much
and
so
closely
studied
by
Manchester
workmen
,
while
they
have
in
a
great
measure
escaped
general
observation
.
If
you
will
refer
to
the
preface
to
Sir
J
.
E
.
Smith
's
Life
(
I
have
it
not
by
me
,
or
I
would
copy
you
the
exact
passage
)
,
you
will
find
that
he
names
a
little
circumstance
corroborative
of
what
I
have
said
.
Sir
J
.
E
.
Smith
,
being
on
a
visit
to
Roscoe
,
of
Liverpool
,
made
some
inquiries
from
him
as
to
the
habitat
of
a
very
rare
plant
,
said
to
be
found
in
certain
places
in
Lancashire
.
Mr.
Roscoe
knew
nothing
of
the
plant
;
but
stated
,
that
if
any
one
could
give
him
the
desired
information
,
it
would
be
a
hand-loom
weaver
in
Manchester
,
whom
he
named
.
Sir
J
.
E
.
Smith
proceeded
by
coach
to
Manchester
,
and
on
arriving
at
that
town
,
he
inquired
of
the
porter
who
was
carrying
his
luggage
if
he
could
direct
him
to
So
and
So
.
"
Oh
,
yes
,
"
replied
the
man
.
"
He
does
a
bit
in
my
way
;
"
and
,
on
further
investigation
,
it
turned
out
,
that
both
the
porter
,
and
his
friend
the
weaver
,
were
skilful
botanists
,
and
able
to
give
Sir
J
.
E
.
Smith
the
very
information
which
he
wanted
.
Such
are
the
tastes
and
pursuits
of
some
of
the
thoughtful
,
little
understood
,
working
men
of
Manchester
.
And
Margaret
's
grandfather
was
one
of
these
.
He
was
a
little
wiry-looking
old
man
,
who
moved
with
a
jerking
motion
,
as
if
his
limbs
were
worked
by
a
string
like
a
child
's
toy
,
with
dun
coloured
hair
lying
thin
and
soft
at
the
back
and
sides
of
his
head
;
his
forehead
was
so
large
it
seemed
to
overbalance
the
rest
of
his
face
,
which
had
indeed
lost
its
natural
contour
by
the
absence
of
all
the
teeth
.
The
eyes
absolutely
gleamed
with
intelligence
;
so
keen
,
so
observant
,
you
felt
as
if
they
were
almost
wizard-like
.
Indeed
,
the
whole
room
looked
not
unlike
a
wizard
's
dwelling
.
Instead
of
pictures
were
hung
rude
wooden
frames
of
impaled
insects
;
the
little
table
was
covered
with
cabalistic
books
;
and
a
case
of
mysterious
instruments
lay
beside
,
one
of
which
Job
Legh
was
using
when
his
grand-daughter
entered
.
On
her
appearance
he
pushed
his
spectacles
up
so
as
to
rest
midway
on
his
forehead
,
and
gave
Mary
a
short
,
kind
welcome
.
But
Margaret
he
caressed
as
a
mother
caresses
her
first-born
;
stroking
her
with
tenderness
,
and
almost
altering
his
voice
as
he
spoke
to
her
.
Mary
looked
round
on
the
odd
,
strange
things
she
had
never
seen
at
home
,
and
which
seemed
to
her
to
have
a
very
uncanny
look
.
"
Is
your
grandfather
a
fortune-teller
?
"
whispered
she
to
her
new
friend
.
"
No
,
"
replied
Margaret
,
in
the
same
voice
;
"
but
you
're
not
the
first
as
has
taken
him
for
such
.
He
is
only
fond
of
such
things
as
most
folks
know
nothing
about
.
"
"
And
do
you
know
aught
about
them
,
too
?
"
"
I
know
a
bit
about
some
of
the
things
grandfather
is
fond
on
;
just
because
he
's
fond
on
'
em
I
tried
to
learn
about
them
.
"
"
What
things
are
these
?
"
said
Mary
,
struck
with
the
weird
looking
creatures
that
sprawled
around
the
room
in
their
roughly-made
glass
cases
.
But
she
was
not
prepared
for
the
technical
names
which
Job
Legh
pattered
down
on
her
ear
,
on
which
they
fell
like
hail
on
a
skylight
;
and
the
strange
language
only
bewildered
her
more
than
ever
.
Margaret
saw
the
state
of
the
case
,
and
came
to
the
rescue
.
"
Look
,
Mary
,
at
this
horrid
scorpion
.
He
gave
me
such
a
fright
:
I
'm
all
of
a
twitter
yet
when
I
think
of
it
.
Grandfather
went
to
Liverpool
one
Whitsun-week
to
go
strolling
about
the
docks
and
pick
up
what
he
could
from
the
sailors
,
who
often
bring
some
queer
thing
or
another
from
the
hot
countries
they
go
to
;
and
so
he
sees
a
chap
with
a
bottle
in
his
hand
,
like
a
druggist
's
physic-bottle
;
and
says
grandfather
,
'
What
have
ye
gotten
there
?
'
So
the
sailor
holds
it
up
,
and
grandfather
knew
it
was
a
rare
kind
o
'
scorpion
,
not
common
even
in
the
East
Indies
where
the
man
came
from
;
and
says
he
,
'
How
did
ye
catch
this
fine
fellow
,
for
he
would
n't
be
taken
for
nothing
I
'm
thinking
?
'
And
the
man
said
as
how
when
they
were
unloading
the
ship
he
'd
found
him
lying
behind
a
bag
of
rice
,
and
he
thought
the
cold
had
killed
him
,
for
he
was
not
squashed
nor
injured
a
bit
.
He
did
not
like
to
part
with
any
of
the
spirit
out
of
his
grog
to
put
the
scorpion
in
,
but
slipped
him
into
the
bottle
,
knowing
there
were
folks
enow
who
would
give
him
something
for
him
.
So
grandfather
gives
him
a
shilling
.
"
"
Two
shilling
,
"
interrupted
Job
Legh
,
"
and
a
good
bargain
it
was
.
"
"
Well
!
grandfather
came
home
as
proud
as
Punch
,
and
pulled
the
bottle
out
of
his
pocket
.
But
you
see
th
'
scorpion
were
doubled
up
,
and
grandfather
thought
I
could
n't
fairly
see
how
big
he
was
.
So
he
shakes
him
out
right
before
the
fire
;
and
a
good
warm
one
it
was
,
for
I
was
ironing
,
I
remember
.
I
left
off
ironing
,
and
stooped
down
over
him
,
to
look
at
him
better
,
and
grandfather
got
a
book
,
and
began
to
read
how
this
very
kind
were
the
most
poisonous
and
vicious
species
,
how
their
bite
were
often
fatal
,
and
then
went
on
to
read
how
people
who
were
bitten
got
swelled
,
and
screamed
with
pain
.
I
was
listening
hard
,
but
as
it
fell
out
,
I
never
took
my
eyes
off
the
creature
,
though
I
could
not
ha
'
told
I
was
watching
it
.
Suddenly
it
seemed
to
give
a
jerk
,
and
before
I
could
speak
,
it
gave
another
,
and
in
a
minute
it
was
as
wild
as
could
be
,
running
at
me
just
like
a
mad
dog
.
"
"
What
did
you
do
?
"
asked
Mary
.
"
Me
!
why
,
I
jumped
first
on
a
chair
,
and
then
on
all
the
things
I
'd
been
ironing
on
the
dresser
,
and
I
screamed
for
grandfather
to
come
up
by
me
,
but
he
did
not
hearken
to
me
.
"
"
Why
,
if
I
'd
come
up
by
thee
,
who
'd
ha
'
caught
the
creature
,
I
should
like
to
know
?
"
"
Well
,
I
begged
grandfather
to
crush
it
,
and
I
had
the
iron
right
over
it
once
,
ready
to
drop
,
but
grandfather
begged
me
not
to
hurt
it
in
that
way
.
So
I
could
n't
think
what
he
'd
have
,
for
he
hopped
round
the
room
as
if
he
were
sore
afraid
,
for
all
he
begged
me
not
to
injure
it
.
At
last
he
goes
to
th
'
kettle
,
and
lifts
up
the
lid
,
and
peeps
in
.
What
on
earth
is
he
doing
that
for
,
thinks
I
;
he
'll
never
drink
his
tea
with
a
scorpion
running
free
and
easy
about
the
room
.
Then
he
takes
the
tongs
,
and
he
settles
his
spectacles
on
his
nose
,
and
in
a
minute
he
had
lifted
the
creature
up
by
th
'
leg
,
and
dropped
him
into
the
boiling
water
.
"
"
And
did
that
kill
him
?
"
said
Mary
.
"
Ay
,
sure
enough
;
he
boiled
for
longer
time
than
grandfather
liked
though
.
But
I
was
so
afeard
of
his
coming
round
again
.
I
ran
to
the
public-house
for
some
gin
,
and
grandfather
filled
the
bottle
,
and
then
we
poured
off
the
water
,
and
picked
him
out
of
the
kettle
,
and
dropped
him
into
the
bottle
,
and
he
were
there
above
a
twelvemonth
.
"
"
What
brought
him
to
life
at
first
?
"
asked
Mary
.
"
Why
,
you
see
,
he
were
never
really
dead
,
only
torpid
—
that
is
,
dead
asleep
with
the
cold
,
and
our
good
fire
brought
him
round
.
"
"
I
'm
glad
father
does
not
care
for
such
things
,
"
said
Mary
.
"
Are
you
!
Well
,
I
'm
often
downright
glad
grandfather
is
so
fond
of
his
books
,
and
his
creatures
,
and
his
plants
.
It
does
my
heart
good
to
see
him
so
happy
,
sorting
them
all
at
home
,
and
so
ready
to
go
in
search
of
more
,
whenever
he
's
a
spare
day
.
Look
at
him
now
!
he
's
gone
back
to
his
books
,
and
he
'll
be
as
happy
as
a
king
,
working
away
till
I
make
him
go
to
bed
.
It
keeps
him
silent
,
to
be
sure
;
but
so
long
as
I
see
him
earnest
,
and
pleased
,
and
eager
,
what
does
that
matter
?
Then
,
when
he
has
his
talking
bouts
,
you
ca
n't
think
how
much
he
has
to
say
.
Dear
grandfather
!
you
do
n't
know
how
happy
we
are
!
"
Mary
wondered
if
the
dear
grandfather
heard
all
this
,
for
Margaret
did
not
speak
in
an
under
tone
;
but
no
!
he
was
far
too
deep
and
eager
in
solving
a
problem
.
He
did
not
even
notice
Mary
's
leave-taking
,
and
she
went
home
with
the
feeling
that
she
had
that
night
made
the
acquaintance
of
two
of
the
strangest
people
she
ever
saw
in
her
life
.
Margaret
,
so
quiet
,
so
common
place
,
until
her
singing
powers
were
called
forth
;
so
silent
from
home
,
so
cheerful
and
agreeable
at
home
;
and
her
grandfather
so
very
different
to
any
one
Mary
had
ever
seen
.
Margaret
had
said
he
was
not
a
fortune-teller
,
but
she
did
not
know
whether
to
believe
her
.
To
resolve
her
doubts
,
she
told
the
history
of
the
evening
to
her
father
,
who
was
interested
by
her
account
,
and
curious
to
see
and
judge
for
himself
.
Opportunities
are
not
often
wanting
where
inclination
goes
before
,
and
ere
the
end
of
that
winter
Mary
looked
upon
Margaret
almost
as
an
old
friend
.
The
latter
would
bring
her
work
when
Mary
was
likely
to
be
at
home
in
the
evenings
and
sit
with
her
;
and
Job
Legh
would
put
a
book
and
his
pipe
in
his
pocket
and
just
step
round
the
corner
to
fetch
his
grand-child
,
ready
for
a
talk
if
he
found
Barton
in
;
ready
to
pull
out
pipe
and
book
if
the
girls
wanted
him
to
wait
,
and
John
was
still
at
his
club
.
In
short
,
ready
to
do
whatever
would
give
pleasure
to
his
darling
Margaret
.
I
do
not
know
what
points
of
resemblance
(
or
dissimilitude
,
for
the
one
joins
people
as
often
as
the
other
)
attracted
the
two
girls
to
each
other
.
Margaret
had
the
great
charm
of
possessing
good
strong
common
sense
,
and
do
you
not
perceive
how
involuntarily
this
is
valued
?
It
is
so
pleasant
to
have
a
friend
who
possesses
the
power
of
setting
a
difficult
question
in
a
clear
light
;
whose
judgment
can
tell
what
is
best
to
be
done
;
and
who
is
so
convinced
of
what
is
"
wisest
,
best
,
"
that
in
consideration
of
the
end
,
all
difficulties
in
the
way
diminish
.
People
admire
talent
,
and
talk
about
their
admiration
.
But
they
value
common
sense
without
talking
about
it
,
and
often
without
knowing
it
.
So
Mary
and
Margaret
grew
in
