he bundles of wood
in the window, but to make out the large print of a bill stuck to a
pane announcing a concert at the Wesleyan Mission Room. The lamp was
alight also in the little beer-house next door to it, where the
_Shipping Gazette_ could be borrowed, if it were not already out on
loan; for children constantly go there for it, with a request from
mother, learning their geography that way in Malabar Street, while
following a father or a brother round the world and back again, and
working out by dead-reckoning whether he would be home for Christmas.

The quiet street, with every house alike, had that air of conscious
reserve which is given by the respectable and monotonous; but for a
moment then it was bright with the glory of the sky's afterglow
reflected on its wet pavements, as though briefly exalted with an
unexpected revelation. The radiance died. Night came, and it was as
if the twilight native to the street clouded from its walls and brimmed
it with gloom, while yet the sky was bright. The lamplighter set his
beacon at the end of the street.

That key had been found. Mrs. Williams laughed to herself, and then
saw me. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were there. Did you
see that? That lamplighter! When Williams was at sea, and I was
alone, it was quite hopeful when the lamplighter did that. It looked
like a star. And that Number Ten is let at last. Did you see the
young people there? I'm sure they're newly married. He's a sailor."

With the fire, the humming kettle, and the cat between us, and the
table laid for tea, Mrs. Williams speculated with interest and hope
about those young strangers. Did I notice what badge was on his cap?
My eyes were better than hers. She trusted it would be all right for
them. They were starting very young. It was better to start young.
She looked such a good little soul, that girl. It was pleasant to know
that house was let at last. It had been empty too long. It was
getting a name. People could not help remembering why it was empty.
But young life would make it bright.

"People say things only change, but I like to think they change for the
better, don't you? But Williams, he will have it they change for the
worse. I don't know, I'm sure. He thinks nothing really good except
the old days." She laughed quietly, bending to tickle the cat's
ear--"nothing good at all except the old days. Even the wrecks were
more like wrecks." She looked at me,