ets. Why, when she was a
girl I used to beau her around, and if she isn't ashamed of a drunken
thief--then in Christ's name, I'm going to help her."

He smiled out of his leaden eyes the ghost of his glittering, old,
self-deprecatory smile. The woman remembered it, and bent over and
kissed his dirty hand. She rose, and put her fingers gently upon his
head, and sobbed:

"Oh, God, forgive me and make me worthy of this!"

There was an awkward pause. When the woman had controlled herself Fenn
said: "What I want is to keep right on sleeping in the basement
here--until I can get ahead enough to pay for my room. I'm not going to
make any scandal for Violet, here. But we both feel better to talk it
out with you."

They started for the back door. The front of the store was dark.
Brotherton saw the man hesitate, and look down the alley to see if any
one was in sight.

"Henry," said Brotherton, "here's a dollar. You might just as well begin
fighting it out to-night. You go to the basement. I'll take Violet
home."

The woman would have protested, but the big man said gently: "No,
Violet--you were Denny Hogan's wife. He was my friend. You are Henry's
ward--he is my friend. Let's go out the front way, Violet."

When they were gone, and the lights were out in the office of the
bookstore, Henry Fenn slipped through the alley, went to the nearest
saloon, walked in, stood looking at the whiskey sparkling brown and
devilishly in the thick-bottomed cut glasses, saw the beer foaming upon
the mahogany board, breathed it all in deeply, felt of the hard silver
dollar in his pocket, shook as one in a palsy, set his teeth and while
the tears came into his eyes stood and silently counted one hundred and
another hundred; grinning foolishly when the loafers joked with him, and
finally shuffled weakly out into the night, and ran to his cellar. And
if Mr. Left's theory of angels is correct, then all the angels in heaven
had their harps in their hands waving them for Henry, and cheering for
joy!

CHAPTER XXXIV

A SHORT CHAPTER, YET IN IT WE EXAMINE ONE CANVAS HEAVEN, ONE REAL
HEAVEN, AND TWO SNUG LITTLE HELLS

"The idea of hell," wrote the Peach Blow Philosopher in the Harvey
_Tribune_, "is the logical sequence of the belief that material
punishments must follow spiritual offenses. For the wicked go unscathed
of material punishments in this naughty world. And so the idea of Heaven
is a logical sequence of the idea that only spiri