r Mary. The
others hung over the spot as if it held some unexplainable fascination,
pointing out the step which tripped her first, the rusty nail to which
still clung a shred of her dress torn out in falling, the jagged
splinter that must have been the one which made the gash in her face.

With a shudder Mary turned away and asked to be taken to Dena's room. At
the opening of the door a strong odor of anaesthetics rose above the
mouldy smell of the unventilated apartment, which was made still closer
by the inquisitive neighbors whom the doctor's orders had not been able
to bar out. Despite his sternness they gathered in the corners, watching
the white-faced girl on the bed. She was moaning, though unconscious.
This was not the first time Mary had met the young doctor in such
places. He looked up with evident relief at her entrance.

"It's a case for a district nurse," he said, when he had explained
briefly in a low tone the seriousness of the injuries. He spoke
purposely in medical terms so that the old father, sobbing childishly on
the opposite bed, could not understand the gravity of the situation.

"I'll find the nurse at once and send her just as soon as possible,"
promised Mary. "I can telephone from the corner grocery."

She hurried out, thankful for the Organized Charities which made such
help possible, and remembering with a queer mixture of resentment and
gratitude that it was the owner of this disgraceful Diamond Row, Mr.
Stoner himself, who had made such a generous contribution to the
Association that they were able to hire an extra nurse for this part of
town.

"If he had only gone at the root of the matter," wailed Mary, inwardly,
"and used the 'ounce of prevention,' there would have been no need for
this great 'pound of cure.' There wouldn't have been this dreadful
accident."

At the foot of the landing she was halted again by old Mrs. Donegan, who
was haranguing an interested crowd while she waited for Mary's
appearance. She was waving a time-yellowed and tattered newspaper in
their faces, and calling attention to the headlines and pictures on the
front page.

"We want you should take it to Mrs. Blythe, and let her put it in the
great speech she'll be after making this day. The whole town ought to
know what happened this ten years gone on account of that same stairway.
Mrs. Reilly didn't want to let the paper go. She couldn't bear the
thought of losing that picture of little Terence. But I took it