One of the factory boys was walking alone across the Common in his factory clothes.
"Why, there's Dick! Sene, do you see?"
Sene's scarred mouth moved slightly, but she made no reply. She had seen him five minutes ago.
One never knows exactly whether to laugh or cry over them, catching their chatter as they file past the show-windows of the long, showy street.
"Look a' that pink silk with the figures on it!"
"I've seen them as is betther nor that in the ould counthree.—Patsy
Malorrn, let alon' hangin' onto the shawl of me!"
"That's Mary Foster getting out of that carriage with the two white horses,—she that lives in the brown house with the cupilo."
"Look at her dress trailin' after her. I'd like my dresses trailin' after me."
"Well, may they be good,—these rich folks!"
"That's so. I'd be good if I was rich; wouldn't you, Moll?"