But Nelly, without a word, darted away at full speed up the lane towards
home, leaving Jack speechless with astonishment. "She hasn't done that
for years," he said; "it's just the way she used to do when we were
first friends. If she got in a temper about anything she would rush away
and hide herself and cry for hours. What could I have said to vex her,
about her marrying, or having some one courting her; there couldn't be
anything in that to vex her." Jack thought for some time, sitting upon a
stile the better to give his mind to it. Finally he gave up the problem
in despair, grumbling to himself, "One never gets to understand girls;
here I've known Nelly for the last seven years like a sister, and there
she flies away crying--I am sure she was crying, because she always used
to cry when she ran away--and what it is about I have not the least
idea. Now I mustn't say anything about it when I meet her next, I know
that of old, unless she does first, but as likely as not she will never
allude to it."

In fact no allusion ever was made to the circumstance, for before the
following Sunday came round John Hardy had died. He had been sinking for
months, and his death had been looked for for some time. It was not a
blow to his daughter, and could hardly be a great grief, for he had been
a drunken, worthless man, caring nothing for his child, and frequently
brutally assaulting her in his drunken fits. She had attended him
patiently and assiduously for months, but no word of thanks had ever
issued from his lip. His character was so well known that no one
regarded his death as an event for which his daughter should be pitied.
It would, however, effect a change in her circumstances. Hardy had, ever
since the attack upon the Vaughan, received an allowance from the union,
as well as from the sick club to which he belonged, but this would now
cease; and it was conjectured by the neighbours that "th' old ooman
would have to go into the house, and Nelly would go into a factory at
Birmingham or Wolverhampton, or would go into service." Nelly's mother
was a broken woman; years of intemperance had prematurely aged her, and
her enforced temperance during the last few months had apparently broken
her spirit altogether, and the coarse, violent woman had almost sunk
into quiet imbecility.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE SOLUTION.

Among others who talked over Nelly Hardy's future were Mr. and Mrs.
Dodgson. They were very fond of her, for fro