rner overlooking the stairs on the topmost lobby, but it was not to watch the come and go of the shabby social eddies breaking down below. She read much to herself.

ational incidents, and the style in which they were recorded stirred in her an admiration worthy of being lavished on Ho

become a tie that drew out peculiarities of the child's nature. There had been quarrels, coolnesses, reconciliations, but Meg's usual attitude toward the journalist was one of min

cried herself to sleep. Loyalty to the landlady was discarded, and with brimming eyes and quivering lips she told Mr. Standish next day of that fraudulent sixpence. To her dismay he laughed, and vowed

g man's face. Her invariable question on such an occasion would be, "What have you had for dinner?" S

nd angry remonstrance. "It is not true; yo

moved him; he was ash

used by Mr. Standish's confess

fish? What fish-turbot, salmon, fried soles?" The ladies who occupied the dra

le in his eyes growing more amused and tender,

!" she f

oice of rich appreciation. "Tw

t's downright wicked! You want to kill yourself, that's what you want to do." She fl

ht hand, "there is a day called 'pay-day' that rules my bill of fare, as I explained to you the other day the moon rules the tides. On pay-day and its

money," said Meg, abrupt in her

to manage money without ref

she said, stopping short in

nod

cels as there are days it must last, and every day spend just what is inside one

dear to Meg's heart, the pacifier of her wrath. By what means Mr. Standish was to come into possession of this fabulous wealth remained vague. Sometimes he would announce his intention of getting it by marrying an heiress, a project always chillingly received by Meg. Sometimes she would suggest spitefully that the heiress

r. Standish left the heiress out of

Meg's answers were evasive concerning the source from which these dainties came. It struck Mr. Standish that Meg had bought them with the store of half-pence he had taught her

it was finished an arrangement had been entered into between them. On pay-day Meg would henceforth receive a sum to be kept for him against the days of privation.

and sweetening her lonely life, Mr. Standish had gained as much by the tie between them. A sort of wonder, half-amused, half-tender, sometimes awoke in his heart at the thought of the child's devotion. His occupation led him to see rough sides of life, and as he beca

sanctum, confirmed Meg in judging these visitors foolish company for her hero. The child grew hot with angry apprehension when the bell rang shortly after their coming, and Jessie would answer it with tumblers of whisky and lemons. On letting out these friends Meg thought that Mr

Why was she poor? Because she was always a-si

prophetic denunciation, would f

alm was perceptible in his voice as he admitted that Meg was wise; sometimes he assumed a superior tone of disapprov

ed from his room ready to sally forth.

?" she ask

enign amusement. He seemed env

she resumed, throwing her wor

watch. He was apparently i

on. I will listen to it respectfully, as if i

joke. She followed him into his sitting-

Meg wore her Sunday gown, a rusty black velveteen, foldless and clinging, buttoned from throat to hem. She had

m waiting," sai

. The quaint austerity of the skimpy garment brought out the lines

not,

u to misery," said the child, with an upward flash of one little br

ds with Mrs. Browne-I don't mean any disrespect-an uneducated tippling old woman. My friends, my dear Meg, are gentlem

he was the devil. He'd leave his wife and little child for days, and come back drunk." Meg gave a fierce little shudder. "The

see those things!" said Mr.

t these men up there take

wingless angels that the pre-Raphaelite masters painted, gracious, grave, workaday beings, with unearthly wise faces. But it was not as a picture that he contemplated Meg; the thought of the goodness, the purity, the holiness o

ou want me to prom

hem give you drink," she replied with her accustomed un

k at all?

not at all," she replied

ot waste my money, and I'll not tipple like M

other upward flash of the well-formed littl

ndish gravely, disguising

ooks and ballads he gave her. In his leisure, as he smoked his pipe, he watched with half-closed eyes the quaint little figure, and drew the child out to talk. He explained the difficult passages in the books she read, and gave he

he had given. His alert carriage and concentrated expression contradicted any

turbing him at his work

is door when they were in his room; she lay awake of nights when she knew that he had gone out with them. She magnified to herself the number of times that he

ny. Meg would not retract the unfavorable verdict she pronounced upon his appearance in the new dress suit he had ordered specially for the occasion. She was not to

d fixed for his return, visions began to group about her bed and pass before her wide-open eyes. All the sorrowful stories of accidents Mr. Standish had related to her enacted themselves before her, in w

to dress. She did not know why she did so, or what she would do after, but a vague sense of

ough the sides of the blinds drawn over the window on the lobby. The baniste

r. Standish. When he reached the topmost flight of steps he perceived the little gray figure standing waiting in the gray dawn, erect, immobi

tuns of champagne!" He came up a few steps. "Tuns of champagne, Meg! Speeches, Meg! Such nonsense! Everybody complimented

ise," said the child in

eplied, speaking huskily. "Not a bit of it. You'll see

im stumble before-caught himself by the balus

Catching at the wall he fell into a fit of laughing; then

at burning, her body cold, as if a shroud enfolded her. She remained huddled and moveless u