th by the
flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily
entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was
sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who
had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless
boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times
during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the
watch-house.

'What do you want?' he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of
the rake who foresees everything.

'Give me a drink.'

'A drink of what, my dear?'

'Licksy.'

He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of
face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but
which will haunt the tenth: a child's face with a passionate woman's
eyes burning and dying in it--black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks,
equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin
conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased.

'Can you pay for it?' he said pleasantly.

The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered
head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and
neglect.

'I've a silver groat,' she answered, and closed her small fist tighter.

'A silver groat!' he exclaimed, rather astonished. 'Where did you get
that from?'

'He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.'

'Who?'

'Him yonder'--she jerked her head back to indicate the
watch-house--'Black Jack.'

'What for?'

'He kissed me,' she said boldly; 'I'm his sweetheart.'

'Eh!' The Inca paused a moment, startled. 'But he killed his sweetheart
yesterday.'

'What! Meg!' the girl exclaimed with deep scorn. 'Her weren't his true
sweetheart. Her druv him to it. Serve her well right! Owd Meg!'

'How old are you, my dear?'

'Don't know. But feyther said last Wakes I was fourtane. I mun keep
young for Jack. He wunna have me if I'm owd.'

'But he'll be hanged, they say.'

She gave a short, satisfied laugh.

'Not now he's drunk Licksy--hangman won't get him. I heard a man say
Jack 'd get off wi' twenty year for manslaughter, most like.'

'And you'll wait twenty years for him?'

'Yes,' she said; 'I'll meet him at prison gates. But I mun be young.
Give me a drink o' Licksy.'

He drew the red draught in silence, and after it had effervesced offered
it to her.

''Tis raight?' she questioned, taking the glass.

The Inca nodded, and, lifting the vessel, she