The side of the town on which Crampton lay was especially athoroughfare for the factory people. In the back streets around themthere were many mills, out of which poured streams of men and womentwo or three times a day. Until Margaret had learnt the times of theiringress and egress, she was very unfortunate in constantly falling inwith them. They came rushing along, with bold, fearless faces, and loudlaughs and jests, particularly aimed at all those who appeared to beabove them in rank or station. The tones of their unrestrained voices,and their carelessness of all common rules of street politeness,frightened Margaret a little at first. The girls, with their rough, but notunfriendly freedom, would comment on her dress, even touch her shawlor gown to ascertain the exact material; nay, once or twice she wasasked questions relative to some article which they particularlyadmired. There was such a simple reliance on her womanly sympathywith their love of dress, and on her kindliness, that she gladly replied tothese inquiries, as soon as she understood them; and half smiled back attheir remarks. She did not mind meeting any number of girls, loudspoken and boisterous though they might be. But she alternatelydreaded and fired up against the workmen, who commented not on herdress, but on her looks, in the same open fearless manner. She, who hadhitherto felt that even the most refined remark on her personalappearance was an impertinence, had to endure undisguised admirationfrom these outspoken men. But the very out-spokenness marked theirinnocence of any intention to hurt her delicacy, as she would haveperceived if she had been less frightened by the disorderly tumult. Outof her fright came a flash of indignation which made her face scarlet,and her dark eyes gather flame, as she heard some of their speeches. Yetthere were other sayings of theirs, which, when she reached the quietsafety of home, amused her even while they irritated her.
For instance, one day, after she had passed a number of men, several ofwhom had paid her the not unusual compliment of wishing she wastheir sweetheart, one of the lingerers added, \"Your bonny face, my lass,makes the day look brighter.\" And another day, as she wasunconsciously smiling at some passing thought, she was addressed by apoorly-dressed, middle-aged workman, with \"You may well smile, my
lass; many a one would smile to have such a bonny face.\" This manlooked so careworn that Margaret could not help giving him ananswering smile, glad to think that her looks, such as they were, shouldhave had the power to call up a pleasant thought. He seemed tounderstand her acknowledging glance, and a silent recognition wasestablished between them whenever the chances of the day broughtthem across each other s paths. They had never exchanged a word;nothing had been said but that first compliment; yet somehow Margaretlooked upon this man with more interest than upon any one else inMilton. Once or twice, on Sundays, she saw him walking with a girl,evidently his daughter, and, if possible, still more unhealthy than he washimself.
One day Margaret and her father had been as far as the fields that layaround the town; it was early spring, and she had gathered some of thehedge and ditch flowers, dog-violets, lesser celandines, and the like,with an unspoken lament in her heart for the sweet profusion of theSouth. Her father had left her to go into Milton upon some business;and on the road home she met her humble friends. The girl lookedwistfully at the flowers, and, acting on a sudden impulse, Margaretoffered them to her. Her pale blue eyes lightened up as she took them,and her father spoke for her.
\"Thank yo, Miss. Bessy\"ll think a deal o\" them flowers; that hoo will; andI shall think a deal o\" yor kindness. Yo\"re not of this country, I reckon?\"
\"No!\" said Margaret, half sighing. \"I come from the South--fromHampshire,\" she continued, a little afraid of wounding his consciousnessof ignorance, if she used a name which he did not understand.
\"That\"s beyond London, I reckon? And I come fro\" Burnley-ways, andforty mile to th\" North. And yet, yo see, North and South has both metand made kind o\" friends in this big smoky place.\"
Margaret had slackened her pace to walk alongside of the man and hisdaughter, whose steps were regulated by the feebleness of the latter. Shenow spoke to the girl, and there was a sound of tender pity in the toneof her voice as she did so that went right to the heart of the father.
\"I\"m afraid you are not very strong.\"
\"No,\" said the girl, \"nor never will be.\"
\"Spring is coming,\" said Margaret, as if to suggest pleasant, hopefulthoughts.
\"Spring nor summer will do me good,\" said the girl quietly.
Margaret looked up at the man, almost expecting some contradictionfrom him, or at least some remark that would modify his daughter\"sutter hopelessness. But, instead, he added-\"
I\"m afeared hoo speaks truth. I\"m afeared hoo\"s too far gone in a waste.\"
\"I shall have a spring where I\"m boun to, and flowers, and amaranths,
and shining robes besides.\"
\"Poor lass, poor lass!\" said her father in a low tone. \"I\"m none so sure o\"
that; but it\"s a comfort to thee, poor lass, poor lass. Poor father! it\"ll besoon.\"
Margaret was shocked by his words--shocked but not repelled; ratherattracted and interested.
\"Where do you live? I think we must be neighbours, we meet so oftenon this road.\"
\"We put up at nine Frances Street, second turn to th\" left at after yo\"vepast th\" Goulden Dragon.\"
\"And your name? I must not forget that.\"
\"I\"m none ashamed o\" my name. It\"s Nicholas Higgins. Hoo\"s calledBessy Higgins. Whatten yo\" asking for?\"
Margaret was surprised at this last question, for at Helstone it wouldhave been an understood thing, after the inquiries she had made, thatshe intended to come and call upon any poor neighbour whose nameand habitation she had asked for.
\"I thought--I meant to come and see you.\" She suddenly felt rather shy ofoffering the visit, without having any reason to give for her wish tomake it\" beyond a kindly interest in a stranger. It seemed all at once totake the shape of an impertinence on her part; she read this meaning tooin the man\"s eyes.
\"I\"m none so fond of having strange folk in my house.\" But thenrelenting, as he saw her heightened colour, he added, \"Yo\"re a foreigner,as one may say, and maybe don\"t know many folk here, and yo\"ve givenmy wench here flowers out of yo\"r own hand;--yo may come if yo like.\"
Margaret was half-amused, half-nettled at this answer. She was not sureif she would go where permission was given so like a favour conferred.
But when they came to the town into Frances Street, the girl stopped aminute, and said,\"Yo\"ll not forget yo\"re to come and see us.\"
\"Aye, aye,\" said the father, impatiently, \"hoo\"ll come. Hoo\"s a bit set upnow, because hoo thinks I might ha\" spoken more civilly; but hoo\"llthink better on it, and come. I can read her proud bonny face like abook. Come along, Bess; there\"s the mill bell ringing.\"
Margaret went home, wondering at her new friends, and smiling at theman\"s insight into what had been passing in her mind. From that dayMilton became a brighter place to her. It was not the long, bleak sunnydays of spring, nor yet was it that time was reconciling her to the townof her habitation. It was that in it she had found a human interest.
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