the shade and
watched the bugs in the grass and the birds in the tree above her. In
the cool of the evening she trudged along the canal bank with Farr
and the play-mamma until eyes grew heavy and little feet stumbled with
weariness and it was time for bed. Rainy evenings they studied the
alphabet or he read to her from picture-books in blazing colors, and
after a time she remembered all the stories and made believe read them
to him.

He worked in the trench and looked forward impatiently to Saturday
nights when the clerk came along with the pay-envelopes; there were so
many things in the stores that would delight the heart of a little girl
who had never had any toys except a rag doll and a broken flower-basket.
Then there were pretty dresses to buy. The taste of Zelie Dionne took
charge of that shopping. When he bought the first one--one that was
white and fluffy--and Rosemarie walked out with him she displayed
such feminine pride in fine feathers that he looked forward to future
Saturdays nights and new dresses with anticipatory gusto. If one had
questioned him he could have told weeks ahead just what his plans
of purchases were, for he canvassed all the possibilities with the
play-mamma who knew so well how to get value for a dollar--who knew the
places to buy and whose needle helped to much.

It was a wicked summer for those who were doomed to the mills and
the tenement-houses. The heat puffed and throbbed over the lashing
machinery. The slashers seemed to spit caloric. The spinning-frames
tossed it off their spindles. The looms fairly wove it into the warp.
The thick, sweet, greasy air seemed to distil cotton-oil upon the faces
of the workers. The nights proved to be no better than the days. The
stuffy tenements gulped in the hot air of midday and held it as a person
holds his breath. All the folks came out upon the little platforms that
were ranged, story after story, above each other. They gasped for air
in the narrow spaces between the high buildings. The stars above those
narrow spaces did not sparkle and suggest coolness; they seemed to float
above the hot earth like red cinders.

Every day the undertakers' wagons came "boombling" down the narrow
canyons of streets between the "Blocks," for the people were dying. The
little white hearse was a more frequent visitor than the rusty black
one; the ranks of the children were paying the greatest toll to death.

"But we shall not worry about our Rosemarie," old E