Davy, the ostler, carrying a tin box, bearing steamship labels. They were young, Kirke saw that at once; little more than a girl, the big one, and the short one, still fresh enough to be interesting. Fowler came heavily after them.
"Where's the housekeeper?" he asked of Kirke. "I've got the new help here for her."
"It's a fine nicht," said Kirke, his eyes, which had become two points of pale fire, concentrated on the faces of the girls before him.
"Damp enough," replied the 'bus driver, shaking himself. "Go straight upstairs, girls, and ask for Mrs. Jessop. You'll see to their boxes, Davy. See that they get hold of Mrs. Jessop. Speak right up to her, girls, don't be afraid. . . . They only arrived in Montreal yesterday," he said to Kirke. "Come along and have one on me." He moved towards the bar.
"Thanks, I will," said Kirke. "I'll take the girls upstairs first, and find Mrs. Jessop. It's an easy place to get lost in. You'd better carry their boxes through and take them up the backstairs, Davy. Mrs. Jessop'll no like ye mounting the front with them, at this hour, with the commaircial gentlemen about.
As they ascended the stairway, the shorter of the two girls said: "I'm sure we're much obliged to you, sir, for your trouble. We're a bit dazed after the long journey, and with the strange plice and all."
"Ay, it's a long way to come for two young geerls," said Kirke. "I wonder sometimes how you get the pluck. But you will do it. I suppose there are motives to bring ye, eh?" He gave a short laugh like a bark and grinned down at her.
"Well, a girl 'as to live, 'asn't she?" There was an exhilarating spice of impudence in her tone. The electric
