be willing to wait a little longer, we would manage to pay you
soon, and not let it occur again. It has been a hard winter with us,
sir; firing is high, and provisions, and everything; and we're only poor
people, you know, and it's difficult to get along."

The doctor made no reply.

"My husband was unfortunate, sir, in not being able to get employment
here," she resumed; "his being out of work, in the autumn, threw us all
back, and we've got nothing to depend on but his earnings. The family
that he's in now, sir, don't give him very good pay--only twenty dollars
a month, and his board--but it was the best chance he could get, and it
was either go to Baltimore with them, or stay at home and starve, and so
he went, sir. It's been a hard time with us, and one of the children is
sick, now, with a fever, and we don't hardly know how to make out a
living. And so, sir, I have come here this evening, leaving the children
alone, to ask you if you wouldn't be kind enough to wait a little
longer, and we'll hope to make it right with you in the end."

"Mrs. Miller," said Dr. Renton, with stern composure, "I have no wish to
question the truth of any statement you may make; but I must tell you
plainly, that I can't afford to let my houses for nothing. I told you a
month ago, that if you couldn't pay me my rent, you must vacate the
premises. You know very well that there are plenty of tenants who are
able and willing to pay when the money comes due. You _know_ that."

He paused as he said this, and, glancing at her, saw her pale lips
falter. It shook the cruelty of his purpose a little, and he had a vague
feeling that he was doing wrong. Not without a proud struggle, during
which no word was spoken, could he beat it down. Meanwhile, the phantom
had advanced a pace toward the centre of the room.

"That is the state of the matter, ma'am," he resumed, coldly. "People
who will not pay me my rent must not live in my tenements. You must move
out. I have no more to say."

"Dr. Renton," she said faintly, "I have a sick child--how can I move
now? Oh! sir, it's Christmas eve--don't be hard with us!"

Instead of touching him, this speech irritated him beyond measure.
Passing all considerations of her difficult position involved in her
piteous statement, his anger flashed at once on her implication that he
was unjust and unkind. So violent was his excitement that it whirled
away the words that rushed to his lips, and only fanned the fury