The Beggar Man

She was small and slight, with timid, brown eyes and soft, fair hair and a certain daintiness of person that singled her out for attention in spite of the shabbiness of her clothes. The first morning she put in an appearance at the factory the other girls marked her down as being a little different from themselves; a little less rough and capable of looking after her own interests, a little more refined, and ready to shrink from jest and laughter. They crowded round her to stare with interest, in which there was mingled a faint suspicion. A volley of questions greeted her from all sides. "What's your name?" "Where do you come from?" "Who took you on?" She shrank back a little from their good-natured inquisition. She answered their questions at random—nervously. "My name's Faith Ledley.... I live in Poplar.... I just applied, and the manager said he'd give me a trial." She could feel the something hostile in the air, and her brown eyes darkened with anxiety. She felt herself so small and alone in this crowd of muscular, cheery young women. One of them, who seemed a sort of leader amongst the others, took a little step towards her. "What are you—a machinist?" "Yes——" "Oh!" The elder girl's rather bold blue eyes seemed to take stock of the younger one; then she said, with a note of greater friendliness: "Oh, well, come on. You can sit next to me if you like."