the river was so high that the
cellar was half full of backwater, and the child drowned before they
could get him out.

Mrs. Donegan gave a dramatic account of it, omitting none of the
gruesome details, for she had been fond of the pretty golden-haired boy
of three, and sympathized with all the ardor of her warm Irish heart
with the old grandmother, who was one of her best friends.

"That's sorrow for you," she exclaimed, shaking her head dismally. "If
you could only see the poor old creature now, so crippled up with the
misery in her bones that she can't leave her chair, and nothing for her
to do all day but sit and eat her heart out with longing for little
Terence. Ah, he was the fine lad, always hanging on his granny's chair
and putting his little curly head on her shoulder to be petted. She
keeps one of those curls always by her in a little box on the table, and
like the sunshine it is. Come in and see it now. Do," she urged
hospitably. "It's always glad she is to talk about him and cry over the
sad end he come to."

Mary drew back, protesting that she couldn't bear to. It was all so
horrible. "What did they do about it afterwards?" she asked.

"Nothing," was the answer. "The lad's father, Tim Reilly, was too poor
to bring suit, and it cost something to move, and they couldn't get
anything better for the same price. So they just stayed on, although his
wife and the poor old granny almost wept their eyes out at the sight of
that staircase for many a month. It was all written up in the papers,
with pictures of Terence and the cellar. Lots of people came to look at
the house, and there was a piece in the paper saying that the stairway
was a death-trap, and that the owner ought to have the charge of murder
laid at his door, and that an indignant public demanded that he put in a
new one. Mrs. Reilly keeps one of these same papers by her to this day.
She keeps it for the picture of Terence that's in it."

"How long was it before he put in the new stairway?" asked Mary, seeing
that some response was expected of her.

The old woman leaned over and shook her finger impressively. "It's the
gospel truth I'm telling you, never a one has been put in to this day.
They just patched up the old one with a few new planks, and all rotten
it is and tearing loose again, as you may see for yourself if you'll
follow me."

But Mary refused this invitation also, and a little later took her
leave, unutterably depressed by all that s