“Who would it be but William Bowls? sure he comes twice every day, sometimes oftener,” replied Bessy; “but what’s the use? nothing comes of it.”
“Something may come of it, Bessy,” said Mrs Blyth, “if William settles down steadily to work, but I am anxious about him, for he seems to me hasty in temper. Surely, Bessy, you would not like to see our Nell married to an angry man?”
“I don’t know about that,” replied the girl testily, as she cut a potato in two halves with unnecessary violence; “all I know is that I would like to see her married to Bill Bowls. He’s an able, handsome man. Indeed, I would gladly marry him myself if he asked me!”
Mrs Blyth smiled a little at this. Bessy frowned at a potato and said “Humph!” sternly.
Now it happened just at that moment that the press-gang before referred to arrived in front of the cottage. Bessy chanced to look through the window, and saw them pass. Instantly she ran to the back door and screamed “Press-gang,” as a warning to Bill to get out of the way and hide himself as quickly as possible, then, hastening back, she seized one of old Mrs Blyth’s crutches, ran to the front door, and slammed it to, just as the leader of the gang came forward.
Meanwhile William Bowls, knowing that if he did not make his escape, his hopes of being married speedily would be blasted, turned to leap over the garden wall, but the leader of the press-gang had taken care to guard against such a contingency by sending a detachment round to the rear.
“It’s all up with me!” cried Bill, with a look of chagrin, on observing the men.
“Come, hide in the kitchen; quick! I will show you where,” cried Nelly, seizing his hand and leading him into the house, the back door of which she locked and barred.
“There, get in,” cried the girl, opening a low door in the wall, which revealed the coal-hole of the establishment.
Bill’s brow flushed. He drew back with a proud stern look and hesitated.