A Girl of the People | Page 7

at the dead
woman.
"Speak, gel; say what you have to say," he muttered.
"It's only a word or two, father--It's just this. Mother's dead, and in a
day or two she'll be buried. You worn't there to bid her good-bye, and it
ain't likely you'll ever meet her again, unless that's true about the
Judgment Day. Maybe it is true, and maybe mother will tell God some
ugly things about you then, father. Maybe you'll see her then for a
minute or two--I can't say."
"Don't," said Granger. "You're awful when you likes, Bet. You has me
down, and you tramples on me. You're a cruel gel, and no mistake."
A derisive smile came to Bet's face.
"Mother's dead and she'll be buried," she continued, in a dry,
monotonous voice. "The money is in the burying club for her, and she
can be laid in the grave decent like. Then me and the boys, Nat and
Thady, we're going away. I wanted to say that--I wanted to say that
your ways aren't our ways, and so we'd best part company; and I
wanted to say here, with you looking at mother's dead face, and her
smiling back at you so awful and still, and the good God, if there is a
God, listening, that I has promised mother that the boys Nat and
Thady--the Cap'n and Gen'ral, as they're called here--shan't larn your
ways, which are bad past belief; so when mother's buried, we're going
away. That's all. You can go to the docks, now."
As Bet spoke she took a little white soft handkerchief, and laid it gently
over her mother's face.
"You can go now," she repeated, and she opened the door for the man,
who slunk out of the room. He was half-sober, half-stupefied. A

burning rage, which was neither remorse nor repentance, and yet was a
mixture of both, surged up in his heart. He said to himself, that he was
sorry for Martha, who was dead, and quite beyond his reach any more;
but he hated Bet, for she had humbled him and dared to defy him.

CHAPTER III.
In Liverpool there are, perhaps more than in any town in the world, all
sorts and conditions of men. The very wealthy and the very poor are to
be found within its precincts--also the very good and the very bad. Its
slums are black and awful; but it also contains some of the finest public
buildings, some of the most massive and comfortable houses, and
without any exception the largest and greatest docks, in the world. All
nationalities come to Liverpool. It sees life from beyond the seas, it has
a population of people always coming and going-- Americans who go
to the theatre in London and arrive in Liverpool about three in the
morning, on their return to their own country; Irishmen, Scotchmen,
dwellers in Africa; in fact, people from all parts of the civilized world
find their way to Liverpool, to return from thence by way of the sea to
their native lands. On certain days in the week the hotels and
lodging-houses are packed to overflowing; the different piers present
scenes of activity and bustle; the great ships come and go, and the
people come and go with them--Liverpool is passed through and
forgotten.
That is the case with those fleeting crowds who so largely contribute to
its trade and prosperity; but the _habitue'_ of Liverpool, the man who
spends his days there, is a totally different order of being. The stranger
sees the great city most generally through mist and fog; he regards the
pavements as rough and slippery; he thinks the public buildings large,
but ugly. Liverpool to him is another London, but without London's
attractions. But the true Liverpool man looks at his native town from a
very different point of view. He is part and parcel of the place, and he
loves it for its size and ugliness, its great commerce, its thriving active
business life. Liverpool to its citizens means home; they are proud of
their laws and their customs; they like to dispense charity in their own

way; they like to support and help their own poor; they have, to an
extent absolutely unknown in London, the true spirit of neighborliness.
This spirit is shared by all alike, the rich and the poor feel it, and it
binds them together; they regard their town as the world, and look
askance at inventions and ideas imported from other places. There are
bad slums in Liverpool, and wicked deeds committed, and cruel rough
men to be found in multitudes; but the evil there compared to London
seems at least to be conquerable--the slums can be got at; nobody who
chooses to apply in the right quarter need die of