under heavy griefs and sufferings. She was
very little, very thin, very lame, very old-looking (ninety at least, in
appearance), very tremulous, very subdued, and _very_ sweet. Even that
termagant gossip, Mrs Hard-soul, who dwelt alone in a tumble-down hut
near the quay, was heard upon one occasion to speak of her as "dear old
Mrs Blyth."

Beside Mrs Blyth, on a stool, engaged in peeling potatoes, sat a young
woman who was in all respects her opposite. Bessy Blunt was tall,
broad, muscular, plain-looking, masculine, and remarkably unsubdued.
She was a sort of maid-of-all-work and companion to the old woman. Mrs
Blyth lived in the hope of subduing her attendant--who was also her
niece--by means of kindness.

"Who came into the garden just now?" asked Mrs Blyth in a meek voice.

"Who would it be but William Bowls? sure he comes twice every day,
sometimes oftener," replied Bessy; "but what's the use? nothing comes of
it."

"Something _may_ come of it, Bessy," said Mrs Blyth, "if William
settles down steadily to work, but I am anxious about him, for he seems
to me hasty in temper. Surely, Bessy, you would not like to see our
Nell married to an angry man?"

"I don't know about that," replied the girl testily, as she cut a potato
in two halves with unnecessary violence; "all I know is that I would
like to see her married to Bill Bowls. He's an able, handsome man.
Indeed, I would gladly marry him myself if he asked me!"

Mrs Blyth smiled a little at this. Bessy frowned at a potato and said
"Humph!" sternly.

Now it happened just at that moment that the press-gang before referred
to arrived in front of the cottage. Bessy chanced to look through the
window, and saw them pass. Instantly she ran to the back door and
screamed "Press-gang," as a warning to Bill to get out of the way and
hide himself as quickly as possible, then, hastening back, she seized
one of old Mrs Blyth's crutches, ran to the front door, and slammed it
to, just as the leader of the gang came forward.

Meanwhile William Bowls, knowing that if he did not make his escape, his
hopes of being married speedily would be blasted, turned to leap over
the garden wall, but the leader of the press-gang had taken care to
guard against such a contingency by sending a detachment round to the
rear.

"It's all up with me!" cried Bill, with a look of chagrin, on observing
the men.

"Come, hide in the kitchen; quick! I will show you where," cried Nelly,