"I never thought yo'd be dining with
Thorntons," repeated Bessy. " Why, the
mayor hissel' dines there; and the members
of parliaiment and all."

"I think I could support the honour of
meeting the mayor of Milton."

"But them ladies dress so grand!" said
Bessy, with an anxious look at Margaret's
print gown, which her Milton eyes appraised
at seven pence a yard.

Margaret's face dimpled up into a merry
laugh. "Thank you, Bessy, for thinking so
kindly about my looking nice among all the
smart people. But I've plenty of grand
gowns,—a week ago I should have said they
were far too grand for anything I should ever
want again. But as I'm to dine at Mr.
Thornton's, and perhaps to meet the mayor,
I shall put on my very best gown, you may
be sure."

"What win yo wear? " asked Betty, somewhat
relieved.

"White silk! " said Margaret. " A gown
I had for a cousin's wedding, a year ago."

"That'll do!" said Bessy, falling back in
her chair. "I should be loth to have yo
looked down upon.

"Oh! I'll be fine enough, if that will
save me from being looked down upon in
Milton."

"I wish I could see you dressed up," said
Bessy. " I reckon yo're not what folk would
ca' pretty; yo've not red and white enough
for that. But dun yo know, I ha' dreamt of
yo, long afore ever I seed yo."

"Nonsense, Bessy!"

"Ay, but I did. Yo'r very face, looking
wi' yo'r clear steadfast eyes out o' th'
darkness, wi' yo'r hair blown off from yo'r brow,
and going out like rays round yo'r forehead,
which was just as smooth and as straight as
it is now, and yo always came to give me
strength, which I seemed to gather out o' yo'r
deep comforting eyes, and yo were drest in
shining raiment—just as yo'r going to be
drest. So, yo see, it was yo!"

"Nay, Bessy," said Margaret gently, " it
was but a dream."

"And why might na I dream a dream in
my affliction as well as others. Did not
many a one i' the Bible? Ay, and see visions
too! Why, even my father thinks a deal o'
dreams! I tell yo again, I saw yo as plainly,
coming swiftly towards me, wi' yo'r hair
blown back wi' the very swiftness o' the
motion, just like the way it grows, a little
standing off like; and the white shining dress
on yo've getten to wear. Let me come and
see yo in it. I want to see yo and touch, yo
as in very deed yo were in my dream."

'My dear Bessy, it is quite a fancy of
yours,"

"Fancy or no fancy, yo've come, as I
knew yo would, when I saw yo'r movement
In my dream,—and when yo're here about
me, I reckon I feel easier in my mind, and
comforted, just as a fire comforts one on a
dree day. Yo said it were on th' twenty-
first; please God I'll come and see yo.''

"Oh Bessy! you may come and welcome;
but don't talk so—it really makes me sorry.
It does indeed."

"Then I'll keep it to mysel', if I bite my
tongue out. Not but what it's true for all
that."

Margaret was silent. At last she said,
"Let us talk about it sometimes, if you
think it true. But not now. Tell me, has
your father turned out?"

"Ay! " said Bessy, heavily—in a manner
very different from that she had spoken in,
but a minute or two before. "He and many
another,—all Hamper's men,—and many a
one besides. Th' women are as bad as th'
men in their savageness, this time. Food is
high,—and they mun have food for their
childer, I reckon. Suppose Thorntons sent
'em their dinner out,—th' same money spent
on potatoes and meal would keep many a
crying babby quiet, and hush up its mother's
heart for a bit! "

"Don't speak so! " said Margaret. " You'll
make me feel wicked and guilty in going to
this dinner."

"No!" said Bessy. "Some's pre-elected
to sumptuous feasts, and purple and fine
linen,—may be yo're one on 'em. Others toil
and moil all their lives long—and the very
dogs are not pitiful in our days, as they were
in the days of Lazarus. But if yo ask me to
cool yo'r tongue wi' th' tip of my finger,
I'll come across the great gulf to yo just
for th' thought o' what yo've been to me
here."

"Bessy! you're very feverish! I can tell
it in the touch of your hand, as well as in
what you're saying. It won't be division
enough in that awful day that some of us
have been beggars here, and some of us have
been rich,—we shall not be judged by that
poor accident, but by our faithful following
of Christ."

Margaret got up, and found some water:
and soaking her pocket handkerchief in it,
she laid the cool wetness on Bessy's forehead,
and began to chafe the stone-cold feet. Bessy
shut her eyes, and allowed herself to be
soothed. At last she said,
"Yo'd ha' been deaved out o' your five
wits, as well as me, if yo'd had one body after
another coming in to ask for father, and
staying to tell me each one their tale. Some
spoke o' deadly hatred, and made my blood
run cold wi' the terrible things they said o'
th' masters,—but more, being women, kept
plaining, plaining (wi' the tears running down
their cheeks, and never wiped away, nor
heeded), of the price o' meat, and how their
childer could na sleep at nights for th'
hunger."

"And do they think the strike will mend
this? " asked Margaret.

"They say so," replied Bessy. " They do
say trade has been good for long, and the