hal was still possessed by his idea that jessie must be taught—she must have knowledge forced upon her, whether she would or no. the train would not start for a couple of hours, and he tried to think of some use he could make of that precious interval. he recalled that rosa minetti had returned to her cabin to attend to her baby. a sudden vision came to him of jessie in that little home. rosa was sweet and good, and assuredly little jerry was a “winner.”

“sweetheart,” he said, “i wish you'd come for a walk with me.”

“but it's raining, hal!”

“it won't hurt you to spoil one dress; you have plenty.”

“i'm not thinking of that—”

“i wish you'd come.”

“i don't feel comfortable about it, hal. i'm here as percy's guest, and he mightn't like—”

“i'll ask him if he objects to your taking a stroll,” he suggested, with pretended gravity.

“no, no! that would make it worse!” jessie had no humour whatever about these matters.

“well, vivie cass was out, and some of the others are going. he hasn't objected to that.”

“i know, hal. but he knows they're all right.”

hal laughed. “come on, jessie. percy won't hold you for my sins! you have a long train journey before you, and some fresh air will be good for you.”

she saw that she must make some concession to him, if she was to keep any of her influence over him.

“all right,” she said, with resignation, and disappeared and returned with a heavy veil over her face, to conceal her from prying reportorial eyes; also an equipment of mackintosh, umbrella and overshoes, against the rain. the two stole out of the car, feeling like a couple of criminals.

skirting the edge of the throng about the pit-mouth, they came to the muddy, unpaved quarter in which the italians had their homes; he held her arm, steering her through the miniature sloughs and creeks. it was thrilling to him to have her with him thus, to see her sweet face and hear her voice full of love. many a time he had thought of her here, and told her in his imagination of his experiences!

he told her now—about the minetti family, and how he had met big and little jerry on the street, and how they had taken him in, and then been driven by fear to let him go again. he told his check-weighman story, and was telling how jeff cotton had arrested him; but they came to the minetti cabin, and the terrifying narrative was cut short.

it was little jerry who came to the door, with the remains of breakfast distributed upon his cheeks; he stared in wonder at the mysteriously veiled figure. entering, they saw rosa sitting in a chair nursing her baby. she rose in confusion; but she did not quite like to turn her back upon her guests, so she stood trying to hide her breast as best she could, blushing and looking very girlish and pretty.

hal introduced jessie, as an old friend who was interested to meet his new friends, and jessie threw back her veil and sat down. little jerry wiped off his face at his mother's command, and then came where he could stare at this incredibly lovely vision.

“i've been telling miss arthur what good care you took of me,” said hal to rosa. “she wanted to come and thank you for it.”

“yes,” added jessie, graciously. “anybody who is good to hal earns my gratitude.”

rosa started to murmur something; but little jerry broke in, with his cheerful voice, “why you call him hal? his name's joe!”

“ssh!” cried rosa. but hal and jessie laughed—and so the process of americanising little jerry was continued.

“i've got lots of names,” said hal. “they called me hal when i was a kid like you.”

“did she know you then?” inquired little jerry.

“yes, indeed.”

“is she your girl?”

rosa laughed shyly, and jessie blushed, and looked charming. she realised vaguely a difference in manners. these people accepted the existence of “girls,” not concealing their interest in the phenomenon.

“it's a secret,” warned hal. “don't you tell on us!”

“i can keep a secret,” said little jerry. after a moment's pause he added, dropping his voice, “you gotta keep secrets if you work in north valley.”

“you bet your life,” said hal.

“my father's a socialist,” continued the other, addressing jessie; then, since one thing leads on to another, “my father's a shot-firer.”

“what's a shot-firer?” asked jessie, by way of being sociable.

“jesus!” exclaimed little jerry. “don't you know nothin' about minin'?”

“no,” said jessie. “you tell me.”

“you couldn't get no coal without a shot-firer,” declared little jerry. “you gotta get a good one, too, or maybe you bust up the mine. my father's the best they got.”

“what does he do?”

“well, they got a drill—long, long, like this, all the way across the room; and they turn it and bore holes in the coal. sometimes they got machines to drill, only we don't like them machines, 'cause it takes the men's jobs. when they got the holes, then the shot-firer comes and sets off the powder. you gotta have—” and here little jerry slowed up, pronouncing each syllable very carefully—“per-miss-i-ble powder—what don't make no flame. and you gotta know just how much to put in. if you put in too much, you smash the coal, and the miner raises hell; if you don't put in enough, you make too much work for him, an' he raises hell again. so you gotta get a good shot-firer.”

jessie looked at hal, and he saw that her dismay was mingled with genuine amusement. he judged this a good way for her to get her education, so he proceeded to draw out little jerry on other aspects of coal-mining: on short weights and long hours, grafting bosses and camp-marshals, company-stores and boarding-houses, socialist agitators and union organisers. little jerry talked freely of the secrets of the camp. “it's all right for you to know,” he remarked gravely. “you're joe's girl!”

“you little cherub!” exclaimed jessie.

“what's a cherub?” was little jerry's reply.