class of seaport inhabitants. As she came near, Sylvia saw that the
tears were streaming down her cheeks, quite unconsciously to
herself. She recognized Sylvia's face, full of interest as it was,
and stopped her clumsy run to speak to the pretty, sympathetic
creature.

'She's o'er t' bar! She's o'er t' bar! I'm boun' to tell mother!'

She caught at Sylvia's hand, and shook it, and went on breathless
and gasping.

'Sylvia, how came you to know that girl?' asked Philip, sternly.
'She's not one for you to be shaking hands with. She's known all
down t' quay-side as "Newcastle Bess."'

'I can't help it,' said Sylvia, half inclined to cry at his manner
even more than his words. 'When folk are glad I can't help being
glad too, and I just put out my hand, and she put out hers. To think
o' yon ship come in at last! And if yo'd been down seeing all t'
folk looking and looking their eyes out, as if they feared they
should die afore she came in and brought home the lads they loved,
yo'd ha' shaken hands wi' that lass too, and no great harm done. I
never set eyne upon her till half an hour ago on th' staithes, and
maybe I'll niver see her again.'

Hester was still behind the counter, but had moved so as to be near
the window; so she heard what they were saying, and now put in her
word:

'She can't be altogether bad, for she thought o' telling her mother