So the time passed in a way that was pleasant. Jessie was completely won by this little Dago mine-urchin, in spite of all his frightful curse-words; and Hal saw that she was won, and was delighted by the success of this experiment in social amalgamation. He could not read Jessie’s mind, and realise that underneath her genuine delight were reservations born of her prejudices, the instinctive cruelty of caste. Yes, this little mine chap was a cherub, now; but how about when he grew big? He would grow ugly and coarse-looking, in ten years one would not know him from any other of the rough and dirty men of the village. Jessie took the fact that common people grow ugly as they mature as a proof that they are, in some deep and permanent way, the inferiors of those above them. Hal was throwing away his time and strength, trying to make them into something which Nature had obviously not intended them to be! She decided to make that point to Hal on their way back to the train. She realised that he had brought her here to educate her; like all the rest of the world, she resented forcible education, and she was not without hope that she might turn the tables and educate Hal. Pretty soon Rosa finished nursing the baby, and Jessie remarked the little one’s black eyes. This topic broke down the mother’s shyness, and they were chatting pleasantly, when suddenly they heard sounds outside which caused them to start up. It was a clamour of women’s voices; and Hal and Rosa sprang to the door. Just now was a critical time, when every one was on edge for news. Hal threw open the door and called to those outside “What is it?” There came a response, in a woman’s voice, “They’ve found Rafferty!” “Alive?” “Nobody knows yet.” “Where?” “In Room Seventeen. Eleven of them--Rafferty, and young Flanagan, and Johannson, the Swede. They’re near dead--can’t speak, they say. They won’t let anybody near them.” Other voices broke in; but the one which answered Hal had a different quality; it was a warm, rich voice, unmistakably Irish, and it held Jessie’s attention. “They’ve got them in the tipple-room, and the women want to know about their men, and they won’t tell them. They’re beatin’ them back like dogs!” There was a tumult of weeping, and Hal stepped out of the cabin, and in a minute or so he entered again, supporting on his arm a girl, clad in a faded blue calico dress, and having a head of very conspicuous red hair. She seemed half fainting, and kept moaning that it was horrible, horrible. Hal led her to a chair, and she sank into it and hid her face in her hands, sobbing, talking incoherently between her sobs.