Fact'ry 'Ands

IT was Monday morning. Benno loitered at the packer's bench. The clerk

was possessed with a great unrest, and his high stool could not hold him

today.

"She's er little boshter!" he said vehemently. "Y' orter seen 'er."

"Fair 'r dark?" asked Feathers, with the intention of showing a friendly

interest in the matter. This was the fifth time Benno had declaimed on

the "boshter" qualities of the unknown, and fraternal sympathy could not

be longer deferred with decency. Feathers delayed the completion of a

knot, and bit off a morsel of tobacco. He solaced business hours with an

occasional quid, smoking on the premises being strictly prohibited by

order of the Czar below.

"Fair," replied Benno, with rapture, "with bloo eyes, 'n' er mouth like

er bloomin' baby. Never saw anythin' like it. She's ther show biscuit,

take it from ther man in ther business--ther top apple, th' 'ole

blessed cake-walk, 'n' straight ez er church. Yeh can see it stickin'

out. Bin well brought up, yeh know--bit shy, 'n' romantic, 'n' all

that."

"This gentle little maiden of today," sang Goudy, the town traveller, to

himself, absently, as he reached for twenty-eight of sixes.

"Ah-h-h go'n 'ave er scratch!" retorted the clerk, bitterly. The town

traveller was a Scot, but the insult had no sting for him; he went on

cheerfully sorting out his order. "Some men," said Benno, with cold

despair, "ain't got no more fine feelin' than a hotel cat."

"When she left the village she was shy," hummed the town traveller,

changing his tune.