BY
L. T. MEADE
"You have kept us waiting an age! Come along, Bet, do."
"She ain't going to funk it, surely!"
"No, no, not she,—she's a good 'un, Bet is,—come along, Bet. JoeWilkins is waiting for us round the corner, and he says Sam is to bethere, and Jimmy, and Hester Wright: do come along, now."
"Will Hester Wright sing?" suddenly demanded the girl who was beingassailed by all these remarks.
"Yes, tip-top, a new song from one of the music halls in London. Nowthen, be you coming or not, Bet?"
"No, no, she's funking it," suddenly called out a dancing little spriteof a newspaper girl. She came up close to Bet as she spoke, and shook adirty hand in her face, and gazed up at her with two mirthful, teasing,wicked black eyes. "Bet's funking it,—she's a mammy's girl,—she'stied to her mammy's apron-strings, he-he-he!"
The other girls all joined in the laugh; and Bet, who was standingstolid and straight in the centre of the group, first flushed angrily,then turned pale and bit her lips.
"I ain't funking," she said; "nobody can ever say as there's any funkabout me,—there's my share. Good-night."
She tossed a shilling on to the pavement, and before the astonishedgirls could intercept her, turned on her heel and marched away.
A mocking laugh or two floated after her on the night air, then theblack-eyed girl picked up the shilling, said Bet was a "good 'un,though she wor that contrairy," and the whole party set off singing andshouting, up the narrow street of this particular Liverpool slum.
Bet, when she left her companions, walked quickly in the direction ofthe docks; the pallor still continued on her brown cheeks, and a dazedexpression filled her heavy eyes.
"They clinched it when they said I wor a mammy's girl," she muttered."There ain't no funk in me, but there was a look about mother thismorning that I couldn't a-bear. No, I ain't a mammy's girl, not I.There was never nought so good about me, and I have give away my lastshilling,—flung it into the gutter. Well, never mind. I ain't tied tonobody's apron-strings—no, not I. Wish I wor, wish I wor."
She walked on, not too fast, holding herself very stiff and erect now.She was a tall girl, made on a large and generous scale, her head waswell set on a pair of shapely shoulders, and her coils of red-brownhair were twisted tightly round her massive head.
"Bet," said a young lad, as he rushed up the street—"ha-ha, handsomeBet, give us a kiss, will ye?"
Bet rewarded him with a smart cuff across his face, and marched on,more defiant than ever.
As she paused at a certain door a sweet-looking girl with a white face,dressed in the garb of a Sister, came out.
"Ah, Elizabeth, I am glad you have arrived," she said. "I have justleft your mother; she has been crying for you, and—and—she is veryill indeed."
"Oh, I know that, Sister Mary; let me go upstairs now."
Bet pushed past the girl almost rudely, and ascended the dark ricketystairs with a light step. Her head was held very far back, and in hereyes there was a curious mixture of defiance, softness and despair. Twolittle boys, with the same reddish-brown hair as hers, were playingnoisily on the fourth landing. They made a rush at Bet when they sawher, climbed up her like little cats, and half strangled her with theirthin half-naked arms.
"Bet, Bet, I say, mother's awful bad. Bet, speak to Nat; he stole mymarble, he did. Fie on you, Cap'n; you shouldn't have done it."
"I like that!" shouted the ragged boy addressed as "Cap'n." "You tookit from me first, you