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"
"But lovely!" he cried.
"Aren't they!" she exclaimed, giving way to pure joy. "Paul, look at
this yellow one, isn't it--and a face just like an old man!"
"Just!" cried Paul, stooping to sniff. "And smells that nice! But he's a
bit splashed."
He ran in the scullery, came back with the flannel, and carefully washed
the pansy.
"NOW look at him now he's wet!" he said.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, brimful of satisfaction.
The children of Scargill Street felt quite select. At the end where
the Morels lived there were not many young things. So the few were more
united. Boys and girls played together, the girls joining in the fights
and the rough games, the boys taking part in the dancing games and rings
and make-belief of the girls.
Annie and Paul and Arthur loved the winter evenings, when it was not
wet. They stayed indoors till the colliers were all gone home, till it
was thick dark, and the street would be deserted. Then they tied their
scarves round their necks, for they scorned overcoats, as all the
colliers' children did, and went out.


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