River Street is a dirty street. Its best friends could not say more for it. The reason is not far to seek; and a part of that reason is that, for many years--say sixty years or even seventy--it has served for a residence street for the same class of people. Residence street is perhaps rather a high-sounding name for it. You may use any other words that you like better, for River Street, from the point where Sally entered it to within a half-dozen blocks of the centre of the town, was, for long years, the one place where certain people lived. It was so wholly given up to those people that it was known as Fayal; and Fayal had a reputation which was not altogether savory. The inhabitants of this local Fayal were, in the old days, sailors, and sailors of the roughest sort; with crimps and sharks and women of several kinds, and an occasional overlord. There were no mills to speak of, twenty-five years ago, at this end of the town. When the mills began to come, the inhabitants of Fayal--at least, some of them--sent for their friends from the islands, and the friends, in turn, sent for their families; the old sailor class, the rough men with gold hoops in their ears, gradually died off and the reputation of River Street improved. Like the street itself, it is not yet altogether savory. At River Street, Sally began to find herself among the tenements, for Fayal had lain in the other direction and the old River Street had faded out, right here, into the remains of a country road which ended at the beach, not half a mile beyond. There was no country road now, and the less said about this particular part of the beach the better. Sally paused for an instant and looked about her. From this point on, River Street was a continuous row of tenements, very neat and tidy tenements, no doubt, at a distance. There was no gleam in that same distance which betokened the Cove, only the neat and tidy tenements, horribly neat and tidy. Sally felt a sinking of the heart or somewhere about that region, although I believe it is not the heart that sinks. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, under her breath. "I had forgotten that it was so forlorn. I will hurry through it. I wish I could shut my eyes, as Patty does, but I suppose I shall need to see."