the old men looked, young Dan Bogan came stumbling
into the shop. Behind him were two low fellows, the worst in the town,
they had all been drinking more than was good for them, and for the
first time Mike Bogan saw his only son's boyish face reddened and
stupid with whiskey. It had been an unbroken law that Dan should keep
out of the shop with his comrades; now he strode forward with an
absurd travesty of manliness, and demanded liquor for himself and his
friends at his father's hands.

Mike staggered, his eyes glared with anger. His fatherly pride made
him long to uphold the poor boy before so many witnesses. He reached
for a glass, then he pushed it away--and with quick step reached Dan's
side, caught him by the collar, and held him. One or two of the
spectators chuckled with weak excitement, but the rest pitied Mike
Bogan as he would have pitied them.

The angry father pointed his son's companions to the door, and after a
moment's hesitation they went skulking out, and father and son
disappeared up the stairway. Dan was a coward, he was glad to be
thrust into his own bedroom upstairs, his head was dizzy, and he
muttered only a feeble oath. Several of Mike Bogan's customers had
kindly disappeared when he returned trying to look the same as ever,
but one after another the great tears rolled down his cheeks. He never
had faced despair till now; he turned his back to the men, and fumbled
aimlessly among the bottles on the shelf. Some one came, in
unconscious of the pitiful scene, and impatiently repeated his order
to the shopkeeper.

"God help me, boys, I can't sell more this night!" he said brokenly.
"Go home now and lave me to myself."

They were glad to go, though it cut the evening short. Jerry Bogan
bundled his way last with his two canes. "Sind the b'y to say," he
advised in a gruff whisper. "Sind him out wid a good captain now,
Mike,'t will make a man of him yet."

A man of him yet! alas, alas--for the hopes that had been growing so
many years. Alas for the pride of a simple heart, alas for the day
Mike Bogan came away from sunshiny old Bantry with his baby son in his
arms for the sake of making that son a gentleman.

III.

Winter had fairly set in, but the snow had not come, and the street
was bleak and cold. The wind was stinging men's faces and piercing the
wooden houses. A hard night for sailors coming on the coast--a bitter
night for poor people everywhere.

From one house and another the ligh