yes
of a great rat. Judging from sundry noises she heard, the countess
concluded there were many of these animals under the house, though what
they found to live on was a puzzle; but they ate a little of the children
now and then, and perhaps the hope of more sustained them. A pale little
boy was lying on a mattress in the corner covered with a faded
blue-and-white shawl.

Therese had mysteriously managed to dispose of the basket she had brought
before she went up to him and kissed him, saying, "I am sorry to see
Willie is still sick."

"Yes," said Bailey, smiling bitterly. "The doctor says he needs dry air
and exercise: it's damp here."

"Tommy More has promised to lend us his cart, and Susie will take him on
the island," Mrs. Bailey said hastily; "it's real country there."

"But you have to have a pass," answered Bailey in a low tone.

"Any one can get a pass," said the countess; "but if you prefer I will ask
the colonel to-day, and he will send you one to-morrow."

For the first time Bailey fairly looked the countess in the face: his
brows contracted, he opened his lips to speak.

"Oh, papa," cried the boy in a weak voice trembling with eagerness, "the
island is _splendid_! Tommy's father works there, and they's cannon and a
foundry and a _live eagle_!"

"Yes, Willie dear," said his father as he laid his brown hand gently on
the boy's curls. He inclined his head toward the countess. "I'll thank
you," he said gravely.

The countess picked up a pamphlet from the table, more to break the
uncomfortable pause which followed than for any other reason. "Do you like
this?" she said, hardly reading the title.

"I believe it," said Bailey: "I am a Communist myself." He drew himself up
to his full height as he spoke: there was a certain suppressed defiance in
his attitude and expression.

"Are you?" said the countess. "Why?"

"Why?" cried Bailey. "Look at me! I'm a strong man, and willing to do any
kind of work. I've worked hard for sixteen year: I've been sober and
steady and saving. Look what all that work and saving has brought me! This
is a nice place for a decent man and his family to live in, ain't it?
Them walls ain't clean? No, because scrubbing can't make 'em. The grime's
in the plaster: yes, and worse than grime--vermin and disease sech as
'tain't right for me to mention even to ladies like you, but it's right
enough for sech as us to live in. Yes, by G---! to _die_ in!" He was a man
who spoke habituall