Bess looked up with a new fear in her face, and Mrs. Benson said, half-appealing: “What, Lor’, she don’t want a ’usband yet awhile, do she, John? She’s but a child, sure_ly_.” “Get out wi’ yer ‘_do she, John_!’” snarled the man. “Most women’s pleased to get their darters out o’ hand, but you’re such a lazy one ye want to keep ’er ’angin’ round to do yer work for ye, I suppose? But whether you want or whether _she_ wants, she’s got to ’ave one. A child she is, but if she’s woman enough to play tricks, she’s woman to ’ave a ’usband. And a child does as it’s bid.” Bess gave a great start and went paler than ever, and her father held his bleary eye fixed fast on her. “Yes, _she’s got to ’ave a ’usband_,” repeated he doggedly, emphasizing every word, “and ’igh time too!” “What d’ye mean, father?” faltered the girl faintly. “I mean what I says,” insisted he, still watching her. “Ye’ve got to ’ave a ’usband if ye can get one, and one o’ my choosin’ too, and that in just about as jolly quick time as I can do it in! Ye’ve got yerself talked about i’ the parish, a-prowlin’ round with a young vagabond at dead o’ night, and I ain’t a-goin’ to ’ave no girl o’ mine talked about, not if I knows it!” “It’s ’ard lines, that it is,” sniffed the woman irrelevantly. “And we with on’y that one.” “It’s ’ard lines to ’ave such a slut for a darter,” snarled the man, drawing up his bloated figure to its awful height and turning his drink-sodden face upon his wife. “The Bensons ’ave been respectable folk ever sin’ I can remember, though _you_ be a bit of a fool, Mary, and I ain’t a-goin’ to ’ave ’em blowed upon.” “I _can’t_ get married,” faltered Bess, with a break in her voice. “Oh, can’t ye!” sneered the father. “We’ll soon see about that, leastways if there’s a man fool enough to take ye. And that’s where I’m comin’ to. Jim Preston, from over Harraden way, is a-comin’ in this arternoon to ask ye to walk out wi’ ’im. ’E’s not much to look at, but ’e can keep a wife, and ’e saw ye over in the town one day, and was flat enough to fancy ye. Ye’re lucky to git the chance, and ye’d best catch ’old of it. Leastways, if ye don’t, I’ll know the reason why.” “I can’t git married, father,” was all Bess said again. And then the man went up to her with his heavy fist raised above his head, as on the night when she had come home from her tryst in the wood. She shrank against the dresser, and Mrs. Benson murmured frightened words beneath her breath. But he seemed to think better of it, for his arm dropped at his side, and he turned from her with a muttered curse. “Yes, I’ll know the reason why, so sure as my name’s John Benson,” he repeated. “And if I find you sittin’ pulin’ and whinin’ ’ere over that darned scapegrace lad o’ Ben Chiswick’s—damn ’im!—I tell ye fair and square I’ll turn ye out of ’ouse and ’ome.” “I knowed it’d come to this,” moaned the mother.