should call that pretty close
cutting."

I looked attentively at the man who said this, all the while he was
speaking, but could not clearly make out whether he were altogether in
earnest, or merely trying to worry the mind of Slade. That he was
successful in accomplishing the latter, was very plain; for the
landlord's countenance steadily lost color, and became overcast with
alarm. With that evil delight which some men take in giving pain,
others, seeing Slade's anxious looks, joined in the persecution, and
soon made the landlord's case look black enough; and the landlord
himself almost as frightened as a criminal just under arrest.

"It's bad business, and no mistake," said one.

"Yes, bad enough. I wouldn't be in his shoes for his coat," remarked
another.

"For his coat? No, not for his whole wardrobe," said a third.

"Nor for the 'Sickle and Sheaf thrown into the bargain," added a fourth.

"It will be a clear case of manslaughter, and no mistake. What is the
penalty?"

"From two to ten years in the penitentiary," was readily answered.

"They'll give him five. I reckon."

"No--not more than two. It will be hard to prove malicious intention."

"I don't know that. I've heard him curse the girl and threaten her many
a time. Haven't you?"

"Yes"--"Yes"--"I have, often," ran round the bar-room.

"You'd better hang me at once," said Slade, affecting to laugh.

At this moment, the door behind Slade opened, and I saw his wife's
anxious face thrust in for a moment. She said something to her husband,
who uttered a low ejaculation of surprise, and went out quickly.

"What's the matter now?" asked one of another.

"I shouldn't wonder if little Mary Morgan was dead," was suggested.

"I heard her say dead," remarked one who was standing near the bar.

"What's the matter, Frank?" inquired several voices, as the landlord's
son came in through the door out of which his father had passed.

"Mary Morgan is dead," answered the boy.

"Poor child! Poor child!" sighed one, in genuine regret at the not
unlooked for intelligence. "Her trouble is over."

And there was not one present, but Harvey Green, who did not utter some
word of pity or sympathy. He shrugged his shoulders, and looked as much
of contempt and indifference as he thought it prudent to express.

"See here, boys," spoke out one of the company, "can't we do something
for poor Mrs. Morgan? Can't we make up a purse for her?"

"That's it," was quickly res