its steady, even pulse. Will wasn't the sort of lad that a girl could
say "No" to without a sensation of pain. Bet thought of him as bonny.
"He's good--yes, he's good," she murmured, and then she remembered the
song of Barbara Allen, and she found herself humming the words which
Will had sung in his strong, brave voice--

"When he was dead and laid in grave.
Her heart was broke with sorrow."

"Folly!" said Bet, breaking off abruptly. "It ain't for me to think
of no man; and I'm not Barbara Allen, and Will will get another girl
to be a good mate for him some day. Poor Will--he's a bonny lad, all
the same."

Bet had now reached the place where she purchased her papers. She made
her usual careful selection--so many of the _Star_, so many of the
_Evening Echo_, so many of the _Herald_. With them tucked under her arm,
she soon reached her own special beat, and standing under the lamp-
light, with her goods temptingly displayed, had even more than her usual
luck. A dark-eyed, bold-looking girl presently came up and spoke to her.

"You seem to be doing a thriving business, Bet," she said, with a
laugh.

"Same as usual" answered Bet. "This is about the best beat in Liverpool,
and the gentlemen know me. I always give them their papers clean."

Just then a customer came up who wanted an _Evening Echo_. The
Echo was a halfpenny paper. He gave Bet a penny, who returned him a
halfpenny change. When this customer had departed the black-eyed girl