instead of giving up an arm or a leg or an eye, I would give up both
ears and say, 'Lord, make me deaf!' For, much as I love music and the
sound of my friends' voices, I believe that I could give up all
conversation, and for ever deny myself to Grieg and Beethoven and
Wagner rather than stand the daily, hourly torture of the street sounds
of a great city."

He looked around at us and real tears stood in his eyes.

"Do you know," said the Angel, answering the look in his friend's eyes,
"I believe no one on earth understands the anguish those of us who
compose suffer from noise. It is not nervousness which causes us this
anguish. It is the creating spirit,--the power of the man who brings
words to life in literature or who brings tones to life in music. It
is part of the artistic temperament, and if I ever saw a child start
and shake and go white at a sudden noise, I should lay my hand on the
little chap's head and say to his mother: 'Take care of that child's
brain, for in it lies the power of the creator of something great.
Teach him above everything self-expression that he may not labour as
too many do, yet labour in vain.'"

I loved Considine for the way he looked at my Angel after that speech
and the way he moved toward him and took his hand in his big, soft,
strong grip.

"I can't stand it!" he declared, standing up. "I'm going. I wouldn't
live in New York if they'd give me the town. I'm going back to my five
hundred acres and get in the middle of it with a revolver, and I'll
shoot anything that approaches!"

But when they had all gone something like dismay seized us.

"He has so much more money than we have," I wailed, "and if _he_ can't
do anything where do we come in, I'd like to know!"

The Angel paced up and down thoughtfully with his hands behind his
back,--an attitude conducive to deep meditation in men, I have observed.

"I think I have it," he said, finally. "Considine is too impulsive.
He was not firm enough. Now I got an important letter from the agents
to-day, saying that they could do nothing about the noise of the
children. In the lease it expressly mentions them. I shall simply
hold back the rent and see what that produces!"

I was filled with admiration at the Angel's firmness.

The result was speedily produced, such as it was. Jepson called. He
called often. Then we began to get letters, and finally they
threatened us with eviction. It made me feel quite Irish.

Then one