CHAPTER XLII
EVILA
It was the anniversary of the great pit fire. Old Paul had gone to look for Ivan at his house in the principal colony, but Ivan had already started for the smaller colliery. He saw Paul on the road, and, stopping his carriage, took the miner up.
"This day last year was a memorable day," said Paul.
"I recollect it well," returned Ivan; "but to-day we have to give the prize for virtue. Have the jury settled to whom it is to be given?"
"They are agreed. A girl who has been little less than a year in the colliery."
"And she has fulfilled all conditions?"
"In every way. The child is most industrious. She is every morning the first to come and the last to leave. She never complains of the work, as many of them do; she treats it as if it were a pleasure to her. If her wheelbarrow is overloaded, she encourages the digger to put on still more; then she runs away gayly with her burden, and comes back singing as if she had been amusing herself. At the end of the recreation she drives the other girls back to their work."
"Is she vain?"
"No; she wears the same holiday clothes in which she was dressed when she came a year ago; naturally they are not quite as fresh as they were. She has a little string of beads round her throat, and in her hair a narrow ribbon. At night she washes her clothes in the stream, for she has one peculiarity—she wears fresh linen every day; but she makes it up herself, so she alone has the trouble."
"Is she saving?"