Mother Bunch washed and washed, hanging out numerous garments to dry, rinsing the suds from her own arms, rendering her small kitchen damp and messy at all hours, and during all seasons. She scarcely raised her head when Bet entered. The soft sound of the soapy water and the gentle splash of the dripping garments greeted the girl as an accustomed sound, and Mother Bunch's broad back was reassuring. "Oh, Mrs. O'Flaherty," said Bet, running up to her, putting her arms round her neck, and imprinting a kiss on her soapy forehead. "I'm in a sight of trouble, and I've come to you to help me." "Glory! child, don't stand right in the way of the soap suds! There you go--splashing all the clothes, and I'll have to wash 'em all over again. Oh, dearie, dearie me--my heart's broke, and that's the truth I'm telling ye. Well, honey--and so ye comes back to Mother Bunch when you want a rale drop of consolation. You know as the old Irishwoman's your frind, and don't bear no malice." "I know that, Mother Bunch! I think now I did wrong to take the lads away from you--only I did it for the best." "Well, now, honey, I wouldn't say that ef I was you. You did it for love, and love's contrairey. But don't talk to me of doing it for the best. How's that broth of a boy, Scarlett? Have you got your own way about him, lovey?" "Yes," said Bet. "Will has got his liberty by now." Her face turned white. "We won't talk of that; there was a price to be paid and it's paid. Will is free, that's a comfort." "Yes," said Mother Bunch. "But there's a sore thrubble on ye, honey. I see it in your eyes. I'm glad the lad's free. Ef they consailed a lad like that in prison--why it would have been the death of him, my dear. Will's the boy that must have his liberty. I expect you'll find him quare and altered, even after one week of prison, Bet." Bet's face brightened, "I'm glad that you, too, understand Will," she said. "I knew that the prison would kill my lad. He's free now." "And why arn't you with him, honey? Why, it's an iligant wedding you ought to be having together, and Mother Bunch dancing an Irish jig, and pouring down blessings on the heads of two of yez. Come now, Bet, what's up? Spake your mind free to the old Irishwoman." "I have nothing to tell, and I can't wait," said Bet. "Father have took away the two lads, and I'm follering of him. He said he would take them to Warrington. I'm a-going arter him, and I'll fetch them back; only I thought I'd tell you, Mother Bunch, so as you might keep your ears open, and let me know ef there's any tidings or news going. Father may have said Warrington jest to deceive me, for he's awful deep, and the lads may be here all the time. You keep your eyes open, and your ears too, Mother Bunch, and I'll come back to you in a day or so ef I can't find them. Now, good-bye--I'm off, I want to catch a train." Bet found herself at Warrington soon after one o'clock.