Hollowmell | Page 9

battlefield" as Mabel remarked.
Hollowmell was a lovely glade which lay at the foot of a gentle
eminence, immediately behind which lay the pit whose ugly shaft was
almost hid by it. No one would have imagined that such a thing lay in
the immediate neighbourhood who saw the glade before the row of
miner's cottages had been erected on one side of it by Mr. Kimberley
for the convenience of his work-people, and even yet the beauty of the
scene would not have been marred by the pretty picturesque-looking
little red brick houses with their white-coppiced windows and

green-painted sashes, if the carelessness and disorder which reigned
within had not been reflected without in the neglected plots of ground
attached to each cottage, in the dirty window-panes, and in the untidy
women and children, and occasionally begrimed men who seemed to
have no other object in life than to hang about and complete the
disgrace they had wrought on the fair face of nature.
Mabel and Minnie walked along the entire row, as the empty cottage
stood at the further end, looking with a new interest at the faces with
which they were both well acquainted by sight, and being rewarded by
stares of stony indifference. They went into the empty cottage, and
Mabel cried out with pleasure, as she looked round the bright, cheerful
apartments, wondering how anyone could feel anything but pride and
interest in keeping such a house in order.
"Why," she said, "I would not wish any pleasanter place to live in
myself, nor any lovelier view to feast my eyes on."
Minnie laughed and said that her papa always said these houses should
belong to her some day, and when that time came she would make this
one a present to Mabel, unless indeed, she would allow her to share it.
After that, they took their leave, convinced that it would answer their
purpose exactly.
Minnie made a message into one of the cottages on their way back to
make inquiries concerning one of the children whom she knew to be ill.
This house was about the most respectable in the entire row, and yet it
might have borne a great deal in the way of improvement. The child's
mother was quite a young woman, probably not over twenty-two, yet
there were two other children playing on the floor, while she herself sat
sewing the braid of her skirt with white thread in great uneven stitches,
the dishes and remains of dinner still upon the table.
She jumped up as they tapped at the open door, and having hastily bade
them enter, she dived into an adjoining room from whence she
produced two chairs, talking in a pleasant, though rather loud voice all
the time. They thanked her, but would not sit down, as they had only a

few minutes to spare, and having ascertained that the little girl was
progressing favourably, they departed.
"I think I'd better go home this way," said Mabel, when they got to the
end of the glade. "It is my soonest way home, and I have got a great
deal to do. I suppose I shall see you at church to-morrow?"
"O, yes," returned Minnie. "And I shall speak to papa to-night. I'll just
whisper to you whether it's all right or not, when I see you to-morrow."
"And I suppose that after that it will be a free subject, and liable to be
discussed at any time?" queried Mabel, smiling.
"Certainly," assented Minnie, a little puzzled.
"O, Minnie, you can't think how amused I was at your efforts to keep
from speaking about it yesterday and the day before! You would open
your lips to say something every five minutes, and then suddenly
recollecting yourself, you would close them again with a determined
snap, but it was hard work to keep them closed, I could see that plainly
enough."
Minnie laughed.
"I know it was," she confessed, "but I must say I did not dream that my
efforts would be appreciated as thoroughly as they seem to have been."
"Well, be thankful it is so," advised Mabel. "And now I'm off.
Good-bye."
That evening Minnie, seizing a favourable moment when the boys were
all out, and she and her father alone, unfolded to him her scheme for
the reformation of Hollowmell. He was, of course, greatly surprised,
and at first very reluctant to allow his daughter to go among these
people, even for the purpose she had at heart.
"You don't know what sort of people these miners are, my dear," he
said when Minnie had made known to him in as few words as possible

what she wished to do. "And as for reforming them, I don't think that
possible, I don't indeed. You had better leave that to