Hardly a night passed without some serious row. The men thought no more of sticking their knives into each other, than of swearing, and as for the females—well, I was pretty case-hardened by that time, but it turned my blood cold to hear those females go on at one another and the men!
I used to think sometimes, as I pushed my way amongst them, that hell itself couldn’t be worse them they was.
Well! there was a little baker’s and sweet stuff shop in those days, standing not far from the theayter, and sometimes I’d turn in there to get something to eat, for I was growing still and could stow away any amount of food. And behind that there counter, in that there common little shop, I seed the most beautiful young woman as ever my eyes fell on.
Not one of your red and white beauties at all, mind ye! None of your yellow-haired buxom gals, with broad shoulders and a pinched-in waist.
On the contrairy, she was very thin and slight, with a figure like a willow wand, and a soft, brown skin without a bit of red in it, except on her scarlet lips. But her hands and feet were as small as small could be, and her eyes!
Well, I never seed such eyes before or after! They was like two glowing lamps set in her face, and her hair was like a black silk, curling all over her head and shoulders!
She was a beauty—well-made and clean cut, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. She seemed very poor to me, for she was worse clad, than ever I’d seen my sister Margaret, and we was humble folk.
Her black dress was patched in several places, and more brown than black, but I noticed how beautiful her hair was kept, and that she generally contrived to have a bit of clean white frilling round her neck. She was mostly grave and serious when she was serving me, but if anything made her laugh—and I could see she had a merry soul by nature—Lord, how beautiful her mouth would be! Well, I fairly fell in love with that gal.
I went into the little shop as often as I could, and I fell to dreaming of her on my beat, and to watching her, as she went in and out. She didn’t live there, for I often saw her arrive at about seven in the morning, sometimes with her poor thin shawl wet through with the rain, and with never an umbrella, which went to my heart; and sometimes, when she left off work (which was never till late) a lad, whom I took to be her brother, used to wait outside for her, but oftener she went home alone.
The reason I took the young man to be her brother was, not only, because they were much of an age, but, because she always seemed so pleased to see him and used to kiss him on the face right before everybody, and tuck her arm under his and go off singing, as if she was a queen.