they strolled down the street, and hal remarked, “that's the first word i've heard here about a union.”

mary looked about her nervously. “hush!” she whispered.

“but i thought you said you were talking about it!”

she answered, “'tis one thing, talkin' in a friend's house, and another outside. what's the good of throwin' away your job?”

he lowered his voice. “would you seriously like to have a union here?”

“seriously?” said she. “didn't ye see mr. rafferty—what a coward he is? that's the way they are! no, 'twas just a burst of my temper. i'm a bit crazy to-night—something happened to set me off.”

he thought she was going on, but apparently she changed her mind. finally he asked, “what happened?”

“oh, 'twould do no good to talk,” she answered; and they walked a bit farther in silence.

“tell me about it, won't you?” he said; and the kindness in his tone made its impression.

“'tis not much ye know of a coal-camp, joe smith,” she said. “can't ye imagine what it's like—bein' a woman in a place like this? and a woman they think good-lookin'!”

“oh, so it's that!” said he, and was silent again. “some one's been troubling you?” he ventured after a while.

“sure! some one's always troublin' us women! always! never a day but we hear it. winks and nudges—everywhere ye turn.”

“who is it?”

“the bosses, the clerks—anybody that has a chance to wear a stiff collar, and thinks he can offer money to a girl. it begins before she's out of short skirts, and there's never any peace afterwards.”

“and you can't make them understand?”

“i've made them understand me a bit; now they go after my old man.”

“what?”

“sure! d'ye suppose they'd not try that? him that's so crazy for liquor, and can never get enough of it!”

“and your father?—” but hal stopped. she would not want that question asked!

she had seen his hesitation, however. “he was a decent man once,” she declared. “'tis the life here, that turns a man into a coward. 'tis everything ye need, everywhere ye turn—ye have to ask favours from some boss. the room ye work in, the dead work they pile on ye; or maybe 'tis more credit ye need at the store, or maybe the doctor to come when ye're sick. just now 'tis our roof that leaks—so bad we can't find a dry place to sleep when it rains.”

“i see,” said hal. “who owns the house?”

“sure, there's none but company houses here.”

“who's supposed to fix it?”

“mr. kosegi, the house-agent. but we gave him up long ago—if he does anything, he raises the rent. today my father went to mr. cotton. he's supposed to look out for the health of the place, and it seems hardly healthy to keep people wet in their beds.”

“and what did cotton say?” asked hal, when she stopped again.

“well, don't ye know jeff cotton—can't ye guess what he'd say? 'that's a fine girl ye got, burke! why don't ye make her listen to reason?' and then he laughed, and told me old father he'd better learn to take a hint. 'twas bad for an old man to sleep in the rain—he might get carried off by pneumonia.”

hal could no longer keep back the question, “what did your father do?”

“i'd not have ye think hard of my old father,” she said, quickly. “he used to be a fightin' man, in the days before o'callahan had his way with him. but now he knows what a camp-marshal can do to a miner!”