ter patch up wot's lef' of him. All right."

Mr. Dootleby was not slow to act upon this suggestion. He bent over the
still prostrate Pete and tried to ascertain if his pulse was beating. It
not being immediately apparent whether it was or not, and Mr. Dootleby
not caring about it a great deal anyhow, he caught up his hat and coat
and hurried away.

Sissy was watching for him from behind a tree across the street, and she
came toward him running.

"Maggie's in de alley, sir, yonder by de lamp, layin' dere an' moanin',
an' I t'ink dey's sumpin' wrong wid her," said Sissy.

She led him to the spot beyond which they had not been able to escape,
where Maggie was lying with the light from the street lamp shining full
in her face. Her dress was torn at the neck, for she had not been
costumed as the others were, and the cold, wintry night-air was blowing
on her bare throat and breast. Her big eyes had lost their dimness, and
were blazing with a fire kindled by a wild imagination. Mr. Dootleby
took off his hat and knelt upon the alley stones, and threw his arms
around her shoulders, supporting her. She looked through him at some one
not present but beyond.

"I didn't do it, Swiggsy, an' he couldn't 'a' made me if he'd burned my
eyes out like he said he was goin' to!" she whispered faintly. "But he
used me rough, Swiggsy, an' I'm--just--a little--bit--tired."

"Good God in Heaven!" murmured Mr. Dootleby, "look upon this wavering
soul in Thy full compassion. She is tired, so very, very tired."

"And, Swiggsy, let's go somewheres where he can't fin' me, cause I'm
fearful of him. An' you'll get steady work, Swiggsy, tendin' bar, an'
then--"

She closed her eyes, and for several moments lay silent and still.

"Swiggsy--"

The sound was faint now, and Mr. Dootleby bent low to catch it.

"I suspicion something ails me in my side, an' I'm falling, falling,
falling---- Ketch me, Swiggsy, hold me--I'm honest wid you, don't you
know it. Tell me so, and say it loud, so's I can hear. I'll be good to
you when I get--rested."

[Illustration: STARS OF THE NIGHT, ARE YOU WATCHING HERE?]

The street is empty. Not a sound is heard. Not a footfall. Not a voice.
The world is sleeping, dreaming of its own ambitions. Stars of the
night, are you watching here?

"You said you t'ought I was pretty, Swiggsy, an' it made me so glad an'
happy, 'cause I wants you to think I'm pretty--ah! where are you going!
Come back! come back! come back! D