Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
CHAPTER
IX. ANTICIPATING THE BANK HOLIDAY
"HULLOA, Melina, where are you going? How is it you aren't at school?You'd best look out or your Granny'll get the attendance officer aroundher again about you, and then she'll give you what you won't like!"
The scene was the corner of Jubilee Terrace, a row of small red-brickcottages on the outskirts of Hawstock, a large provincial west ofEngland town, on a cold January morning; and the speaker—WilliamJones—was a tall, well-grown boy of about twelve years of age,comfortably clad, who had that minute emerged from one of the cottagesand encountered an ill-tempered-looking little girl, a year or so hisjunior, to whom he had addressed himself.
"D' you think I'm afraid of the attendance officer?" demanded thelittle girl, who was called Melina Berryman. She spoke in a high,shrill voice, the voice of a scold, and her manner was argumentative."And I ain't afraid of Gran either, so there!" she added.
The boy laughed unbelievingly, whilst his blue eyes twinkled withamusement as they travelled over his companion from the crown of herbattered hat, decorated with a draggled plume of cocks' feathers, tothe tips of her toes, which had worn through her stockings and werepeeping out of her shabby boots. He was not really an unkind boy; butMelina Berryman was the butt of all the children who lived in JubileeTerrace, and he found considerable amusement in teasing her. It wassuch fun to bait her into an ungovernable passion, to see her thinwhite countenance distorted with anger and her big eyes flash, and tolisten to the volley of abuse which would