little Nelly Lewthwaite Ben's way. Nelly was a slip of a lass, not seventeen years old, and though Ben had a consciousness that some such human being was crossing the yard, he was looking far beyond her, until she stood at his side, and, dropping a courtesy, said, "Master Holden, I'd like to work for thee."
Ben looked down at her, and his stern face softened all over. She had the wonderful Lancashire eyes, with bands of rippling brown hair above them, and a small mouth, bow-shaped and rosy.
"Why, then, thou shall work for me," he answered kindly. "Where does ta come from? Thou art none of our folk."
"I come from Manchester way."
"Ay, for sure. Are they folk with thee?"
"I have none, master. Father and mother died last year with t' fever, thou would hear how bad it was?"
And she looked sadly down at her black dress, and touched a bit of crape at her throat.
"Hes ta no brothers and sisters?"
"I hed; but they got married, and wedding changed 'em some way. They couldn't be bothered wi' me after it."
