What Is A Strike

'There are briars besetting every path,
Which call for patient care;
There is a cross in every lot,
And an earnest need for prayer.'
ANON.

Margaret went out heavily and unwillingly enough. But the length
of a street--yes, the air of a Milton Street--cheered her young
blood before she reached her first turning. Her step grew
lighter, her lip redder. She began to take notice, instead of
having her thoughts turned so exclusively inward. She saw unusual
loiterers in the streets: men with their hands in their pockets
sauntering along; loud-laughing and loud-spoken girls clustered
together, apparently excited to high spirits, and a boisterous
independence of temper and behaviour. The more ill-looking of the
men--the discreditable minority--hung about on the steps of the
beer-houses and gin-shops, smoking, and commenting pretty freely
on every passer-by. Margaret disliked the prospect of the long
walk through these streets, before she came to the fields which
she had planned to reach. Instead, she would go and see Bessy
Higgins. It would not be so refreshing as a quiet country walk,
but still it would perhaps be doing the kinder thing.

Nicholas Higgins was sitting by the fire smoking, as she went in.
Bessy was rocking herself on the other side.

Nicholas took the pipe out of his mouth, and standing up, pushed
his chair towards Margaret; he leant against the chimney piece in
a lounging attitude, while she asked Bessy how she was.