. They all go back and buy land in Canada, they spend no money
here. See how well they forget their pocketbooks every Sunday for the
collection. They do be very light too, they've more laugh than
ourselves. 'Tis myself's getting old anyway, I don't laugh much now."

"I like to see a pritty girl look fine," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "No,
they don't be young but once--"

The mill bell rang, and there was a moment's hush of the jarring,
racketing machinery and a sudden noise of many feet trampling across
the dry, hard pine floors. First came an early flight of boys bursting
out of the different doors, and chasing one another down the winding
stairs two steps at a time. The old sweepers, who had not quite
reached the bottom, stood back against the wall for safety's sake
until all these had passed, then they kept on their careful way, the
crowd passing them by as if they were caught in an eddy of the stream.
Last of all they kept sober company with two or three lame persons and
a cheerful delayed little group of new doffers, the children who
minded bobbins in the weave-room and who were young enough to be tired
and even timid. One of these doffers, a pale, pleasant-looking child,
was all fluffy with cotton that had clung to her little dark plaid
dress. When Mrs. Kilpatrick spoke to her she answered in a hoarse
voice that appealed to one's sympathy. You felt that the hot room and
dry cotton were to blame for such hoarseness; it had nothing to do
with the weather.

"Where are you living now, Maggie, dear?" the old woman asked.

"I'm in Callahan's yet, but they won't keep me after to-day," said the
child. "There's a man wants to get board there, they're changing round
in the rooms and they've no place for me. Mis' Callahan couldn't keep
me 'less I'd get my pay raised."

Mrs. Kilpatrick gave a quick glance at Mary Cassidy. "Come home with
me then, till yez get a bite o' dinner, and we'll talk about it," she
said kindly to the child. "I'd a wish for company the day."

The two old companions had locked their brooms into a three-cornered
closet at the stair-foot and were crossing the mill yard together.
They were so much slower than the rest that they could only see the
very last of the crowd of mill people disappearing along the streets
and into the boarding-house doors. It was late autumn, the elms were
bare, one could see the whole village of Farley, all its poverty and
lack of beauty, at one glance. The large houses looked as