isted of two rooms in a rickety old tenement house around which
everything rattled and flapped as the wind raged. Their light came from
a dingy little lamp on a goods box. Every now and then a more violent
gust of wind struck the house with such force that the structure
trembled and the feeble light flickered dangerously.

Here and there broken windows were stopped up with rags and papers and
through the insecure crevices the wind found its way with a rasping,
tiresome groan.

What little fire there was, burned in a small rusty stove. Its door
stood open, perhaps to keep the low fire burning longer, perhaps to let
the warmth out sooner, and against the pale red glow four small hands
were visible, spread to catch the feeble heat.

On a bed in one corner, gaunt, and with wasted form, a woman lay.

This was the mother.

A girl of perhaps fifteen sat close to the stove and held a tiny baby
wrapped in a gingham apron.

A spell seemed to have fallen on the usually noisy group. Even Cora, the
family merrymaker, was quiet, until aroused from her reverie by an act
of her brother who replenished the fire.

She spoke rather severely.

"Johnnie, how many pieces of coal are there left in the box?"

"Five--and little ones."

"Then get to work quick! Take out one of the pieces that you have just
put in. We are not rich enough to burn three pieces at once."

"I'm cold," whined the boy.

"So am I, awful cold, but you know that coal must do till pa comes."

"I'd like to know when that will be. Any other pa would be home such a
freezing night as this. I hate my pa."

"Johnnie, Johnnie, you must not talk that way. He is your father,
child."

The voice came from the bed and was marked by that peculiar tone
noticeable when persons extremely cold try to speak without chattering.

"I can't help it, mother. I'm cold, so cold, and I'm hungry, too. I only
had half a potato, and Maggie says they're all gone."

"Poor child!" said the mother with a sigh. "Here, Maggie, give him
this," and she drew from under the pillow a small potato which she held
toward the girl.

But the girl did not stir until the hungry boy made a move in the
direction of the bed. This movement aroused her as his overdose of coal
had roused his other watchful sister a moment previous.

"No! No! Johnnie. Do not take it. Our mother will starve. She has not
eaten anything for two days."

"Let him have it, Maggie. I cannot eat it. Perhaps your father will