habits kept her busy at Fern's Hollow; and the rough, loud voices of the
banksmen, the regular beat of the engine, the clanking of chains, and the
dust and smoke and heat of the almost strange scene bewildered the
hillside girl. She made her way to the cabin, a little hut built near the
mouth of the shaft for the use of the people employed about the pit; but
before she could see Tim, or fix upon any one to inquire about Stephen
from, a girl of her own age, but with a face sunburnt and blackened from
her rough and unwomanly work, and in an uncouth dress of sackcloth, which
was grimed with coal-dust, came up and peered boldly in her face.

'Why, it's Miss Fern!' she cried, with a loud laugh; 'Miss Fern, Esq.,
of Fern's Hollow, come to learn us poor pit-folk scholarship and manners.
Here, lads! here's Mr. Stephen Fern's fine sister, as knows more nor all
of us put together. Give us a bit of your learning, Miss Fern.'

'I know a black-bess when I see one,' replied Martha sharply; and all the
boys and girls joined in a ready roar of merriment against Bess Thompson,
whose nickname was the common country name for a beetle.

'That'll do!' they shouted; 'she knows a black-bess! Thee's got thy
answer, Bess Thompson.'

'What's brought thee to the pit?' asked Bess fiercely; 'we want no
scatter-witted hill girls here, I can tell ye. So get off the pit-bank,
afore I drive thee off.'

'What's all this hullabaloo?' inquired Tim, making his appearance at the
cabin door. 'Why, Martha, what brings thee at the pit? Come in here, and
tell me what's up now.'