Seth | Page 3

had not very far to go. The houses of the miners--rough shanties
hurriedly erected to supply immediate needs--were most of them

congregated together, or at most stood at short distances from each
other, the larger ones signifying the presence o£ feminine members in a
family and perhaps two or three juvenile pioneers--the smaller ones
being occupied by younger miners, who lived in couples, or sometimes
even alone.
Before one of the larger shanties Langley reined in his horse. "A
Lancashire man lives here," he said, "and I am going to leave you with
him."
In answer to his summons a woman came to the door--a young woman
whose rather unresponsive face wakened somewhat when she saw who
waited.
"Feyther," she called out, "it's Mester Langley, an' he's getten a stranger
wi' him."
"Feyther," approaching the door, showed himself a burly individual,
with traces of coal-dust in all comers not to be reached by hurried and
not too fastidious ablutions. Clouds of tobacco-smoke preceded and
followed him, and much stale incense from the fragrant weed exhaled
itself from his well-worn corduroys. "I ha' not nivver seed him afore,"
he remarked after a gruff by no means-ill-natured greeting, signifying
the stranger by a duck of the head in his direction.
"A Lancashire lad, Janner," answered Langley, "I want a home for
him."
Janner regarded him with evident interest, but shook his head dubiously.
"Ax th' missus," he remarked succinctly: "dunnot ax me."
Langley's good-humored laugh had a touch of conscious power in it. If
it depended upon "th' missus" he was safe enough. His bright good
looks and gay grace of manner never failed with the women. The most
practical and uncompromising melted, however unwillingly, before his
sunshine, and the suggestion of chivalric deference which seemed a
second nature with him. So it was easy enough to parley with "th'
missus."

"A Lancashire lad, Mrs. Janner," he said, "and so I know you'll take
care of him. Lancashire folk have a sort of fellow feeling for each other,
you see; that was why I could not make up my mind to leave him until I
saw him in good hands; and yours are good ones. Give him a square
meal as soon as possible," he added in a lower voice: "I will be
accountable for him myself."
When he lifted his hat and rode away, the group watched him until he
was almost out of sight, the general sentiment expressing itself in every
countenance.
"Theer's summat noice about that theer young chap," Janner remarked
with the slowness of a man who was rather mystified by the fascination
under whose influence he found himself--"sum-mat as goes wi' th' grain
loike."
"Ay," answered his wife, "so theer is; an' its natur' too. Coom along in,
lad," to Seth, "an ha' summat to eat: yo' look faintish."
Black Creek found him a wonderfully quiet member of society, the lad
Seth. He came and went to and from the mine with mechanical
regularity, working with the rest, taking his meals with the Janners, and
sleeping in a small shanty left vacant by the desertion of a young miner
who had found life at the settlement too monotonous to suit his tastes.
No new knowledge of his antecedents was arrived at. He had come
"fro' Deepton," and that was the beginning and end of the matter. In
fact, his seemed to be a peculiarly silent nature. He was fond of being
alone, and spent most of his spare time in the desolate little shanty.
Attempts at conversation appeared to trouble him, it was discovered,
and accordingly he was left to himself as not worth the cultivating.
"Why does na' tha' talk more?" demanded Janner's daughter, who was a
strong, brusque young woman, with a sharp tongue.
"I ha' not gotten nowt to say," was the meekly deprecating response.
Miss Janner, regarding the humble face with some impatience,
remarkably enough, found nothing to deride in it, though, being neither

a beauty nor in her first bloom, and sharp of tongue, as I have said, she
was somewhat given to derision as a rule. In truth, the uncomplaining
patience in the dull, soft eyes made her feel a little uncomfortable.
"I dunnot know what ails thee," she remarked with unceremonious
candor, "but theer's summat as does."
"It's nowt as can be cured," said the lad, and turned his quiet face away.
In his silent fashion he evinced a certain degree of partially for his
host's daughter. Occasionally, after his meals, he lingered for a few
moments watching her at her work when she was alone, sitting by the
fire or near the door, and regarding her business-like movements with a
wistful air of wonder and admiration. And yet so unobtrusive were
these mute attentions that Bess Janner was never roused to any