saddened expression of her young countenance, and the forced
bravery therein, that scarcely overcame the native timidity so
touchingly visible.

"Father!" I have never heard this word spoken in a voice that sent
such a thrill along every nerve. It was full of sorrowful love--
full of a tender concern that had its origin too deep for the
heart of a child. As she spoke, the little one sprang across the
room, and laying her hands upon the arm of Joe Morgan, lifted her
eyes, that were ready to gush over with tears, to his face.

"Come father! won't you come home?" I hear that low, pleading
voice even now, and my heart gives a quicker throb. Poor child!
Darkly shadowed was the sky that bent gloomily over thy young
life.

Morgan arose, and suffered the child to lead him from the room. He
seemed passive in her hands. I noticed that he thrust his fingers
nervously into his pocket, and that a troubled look went over his
face as they were withdrawn. His last sixpence was in the till of
Simon Slade!

The first man who spoke was Harvey Green, and this not for a
minute after the father and his child had vanished through the
door.

"If I was in your place, landlord"--his voice was cold and
unfeeling--"I'd pitch that fellow out of the bar-room the next
time he stepped through the door. He's no business here, in the
first place; and, in the second, he doesn't know how to behave