playing with little gallowses, and askin' when pa was goin' to
murder somebody, till you felt chilled to the very marrow of your
bones.'

'But poor folks, that live in attics, ain't considered human. I tell you
what, though, if Mis' Way had a seen her children starving, and stole a
loaf of bread to save their lives, there would have been a stir about
it, and a pile of policemen from here to the corner, to 'enforce the
law,' and they'd have talked in all the churches, about the depravity of
the poor in these cities, and then sent another thousand or two to the
heathens. The Lord only knows what the world's a comin' to.'

'And the Lord only cares, I don't,' said Mrs. Maloney, flouncing off.
The honest truth was, she was a little jealous of her more intelligent
neighbor, (for human nature is much the same from the garret to the
drawing-room.) Mrs. Macarty needn't think _she_ was talked down, if she
did, now and then, get in a word that she had picked up out to service,
that the rest of the folks in the block could not understand. One of the
Maloney's, direct from Galway, wasn't to be put down by any low Irish.
She'd go in and see the babies herself, and patronize them too. So, for
spite, she took a dish of steaming potatoes, and left little Mike
roaring, and went in to have a gossip.

"'Oh, thank you, Mrs. Maloney,' said Angel, who was fluttering around,
setting the table, 'this will be so nice for papa--there he comes now.'

"A footstep sounded without, and the man came in, looking haggard and
wan. 'The dirty villain,' muttered Mrs. Maloney, shuffling past him; but
Angel came forward, and smoothed the hot temples, and talked in her
pretty, bird-like voice. Two great tears rolled out from the hollow
eyes, and a prayer that God must have heard, welled up from the depths
of a penitent heart.

"Three peaceful, happy years rolled away. Angel was a tall girl of
fifteen, and Mary five. They lived in a little cottage in the outskirts
of the town, and the neighbors envied them their contented lot, and even
strangers paused to admire their pretty home, and these fair, beautiful
children. But sin once more entered their little Paradise. William Way
again relapsed into dissipation, and 'the state of that man was worse
than before.' The fire died out upon the hearth stone, and want, with
gaunt, wolfish face, met them wherever they turned. And he, who should
have protected, gave them only blows and curses. Everything went for
dri