Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-03-15

perfect forms in every workshop and
factory in the kingdom where girls
labor, and it is certain that, in the dis
| tribution of female charms, God has
shown no special favor TO the great ones
| of the earth.
Working as he had done for SO many
! years among women, Mark had seen no
| end of comely faces. but never before,
| he told himself, had he seen one TO equal
this on which he now looked.
This girl seemed to be about nineteen
| she was brown-haired, brown-eyed
with a pure, clear olive complexion ,
! tinged at the cheeks with the faIntest
| flame of color; and her slender nose,
ever so slightly aquiline, her finely
moulded cheek and chin, her mobile
mouth and arched brows were such as a
| great painter would love to linn, or a
| famous stGtuary to model.
She was dressed like the other girls in
| striped petticoats, white apron, stuff
bodice and shoulder shawl, but that
bonny face of hers made her appear like
! a princess in disguise. And the undu-
! lating grace with which she trod the
| pavement was as foreign to a mill girl as
a tiara of jewels around her neck would
| have seemed.
On she came with q quick, easy swing,
her tiny clogs clicking regularly on the
stones, and as she passed Mark she no.
ticed him, and his intent stare sent a
flood of crimson surging over neck and
cheek. He was veXed with himself for
having permitted himself to annoy her,
but as soon as she passed he cried to his
| companion:
''Who is she?''
ooh, - Bob answered with a laugh
''that's the factory queen. -
"Faotory queeni'' Mark murmured,
his eyes still following the girl. who had
gone through the gates leading to Har-
wood S mills.
"Ay-at least that's what everybody
caws her. Art smItten wi her awready, ,
lad? Well, tha'rt not fuSt. A pratty
wench, isn't nor? Six months sin a
gentleman as COON here to larn cotton
spinnln' under Harwood went nearly
cracked abeaut her. Wanted to wed
her, so folks SEES, but hoo would ha'
nawt to do wi him. Then he went
away, an yung Mayhem COON in his
place, and all believe he's as far gone
o'ert' wenoh as tother yung foo wus. -
"But who is she?' Mark asked again.
"Ah cannot tell thee, lad, who hoo is,
but all con tell thee what they ca her
an wheer hoo lives, an heaw hoo COON
to Warringham! said Bob, IN his most
mysterious manner.
'TelI me then, Bob?'' Mark replied
with manifest eagerness.
well, it happened this way. Seven
teen or eighteen years sin'-it wur
eighteen years last November-a woman
was fo'n deeud in that theer entry
ho
pointed with his finger ut the narrow
passage which stood little beyond The
Star.
''But this wench?" Mark cried i'm
patiently.
THAT wench,'' Bob exclaimed,
''was in the deeud woman s erms. But
who the pore creechur was or wheer hoo
COON fro was never known. That's a
ali con tell thee abeaut heron y this.
A wench named Polly Pemberton was
one 9th fust to fahnd her, an hoo
took tn chahlt womm VII her theer an
then. An when nobody COON to claim
it she KEEP it, browt it up, an the wenoh
lives wi her adopted mother still. -
''But what is this girl IS real name? I
mean what name was given to herr"
''That of the wench as TO md 'er. Her
names Pemberton-Nellie Pembertot,
the factory queen, replied Bob with a
chuckle.
s'Nellie Pemberton!'' Mark Eliot
whispered softly, dwelling pleasantly on
each syllable of the girls name. tThe
wench IS names as pretty as herself, "
he added.
cay, ay,' Bob responded, "hoo is a
pratty wench an no bother abeawt it.
An fro what ali con hear o her hool's
ir1Sf ~
seyin' a greyt deeul, Mark. Hello!
that g hawVe past one blowing. Horny
up, may lad. -
Ere Bob had ceased speaking, the air
was suddenly filled with the claugour of
harsh tongued bells and the screams of
steam whistles, which declared that the
dinner hour was spent, and that it was
time for the mill hands to resume their
labors once more.
As Mark and his companion turned
away from the low wall to hurry across
the street and through the great gates
leading to HARDWOOD mills, the former
asked;
fThis Nellie Pemberton works at Har-
wood 's?''
''suttinly, lad; didn't see 'er COCA
this road. -
''What is hoop
GA weaver; an as hoo works in t
same Shade as thee, ah know what's
goin to happen!' cried Bob with low
chuckle.
''What's goin to happen?'
"Thah knows; bur ah IL tell thee.
Tha art goin' too fa' yed Ger ears in
Iuv with that theer wench. Mark-nay,
tina art not goin' too do it, for thah's
gone an done it a ready. -
The old fellow laughed heartily at his
own acute powers of perception, and the
young man at his side made no rejoinder.
But into his handsome face there came a
quick rush of color, which told its own
story to those who could read it.
CHAPTER IA PANIC.
If Nellie Pemberton, the "Factory |
nuoo- }, 10 nj CLh ia ,,,