m just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;
she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity
the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em--thet's wot I say.'

After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turned
into another a few doors up.

Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but opened
the window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, looking
out into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky was
growing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was no
breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk still
sat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustible
subjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boys
were still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end of
the street, and their shouts were muffled before they reached Liza's
ears.

She sat, leaning her head on her hands, breathing in the fresh air and
feeling a certain exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was not
used to. It was Saturday evening, and she thankfully remembered that
there would be no factory on the morrow; she was glad to rest.
Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was through the excitement
of the afternoon, and she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. It
seemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled her with a strange
delight, she felt as if she could sit there all through the night
looking out into the cool, dark street, and up heavenwards at the
stars. She was very happy, but yet at the same time experienced a
strange new sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished to cry.

Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of the open window. She gave a
little shriek.

''Oo's thet?' she asked, for it was quite dark, and she did not
recognize the man standing in front of her.

'Me, Liza,' was the answer.

'Tom?'

'Yus!'

It was a young man with light yellow hair and a little fair moustache,
which made him appear almost boyish; he was light-complexioned and
blue-eyed, and had a frank and pleasant look mingled with a curious
bashfulness that made him blush when people spoke to him.

'Wot's up?' asked Liza.

'Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?'

'No!' she answered decisively.

'You promised ter yesterday, Liza.'

'Yesterday an' ter-day's two different things,' was her wise reply.

'Yus, come on, Liza.'

'Na, I tell yer, I won't.'

'I want ter talk ter yer, Liza.' Her han