Having discovered a vacant place about the right centre bench, which was fixed to the wall, Joe Doughty made his way to the spot, but as he pushed his way along he met with a reproof from a female, whose supper he disarranged in passing by.
Joe apologised, and the female was gracious enough to accept it, and express herself well satisfied.
This little incident passed unnoticed by the rest of the occupants, all of whom appeared to be intent upon their own business arrangements.
Joe, when he had taken his place, had another glance at his companions, who, to say the truth, would have afforded a painter an excellent study for his canvas.
By the side of the old man sat one of the prettiest girls Joe had seen for many a long day. She was travelling, or, in other terms, begging with her grandfather, who sat next to her.
Whether she was his grandchild no one could tell; she passed as such, and the two were inseparable. Her age was about eighteen.
There was a light in her eye, a rapidity in her step, a fascination in her smile, and a playfulness in her jests and tone, which were quite captivating.
Joe had not come to the “Travellers’ Rest” to lose his heart, but the young girl engaged his attention in a remarkable degree.
“She be a purty creature,” he murmured to himself, “and be a deal too good for a place like this ’ere.”
He did not know, when he apostrophised her, that she had been corrupted by depraved society, and was miserably callous to all moral sentiment.