was fiery with passion, and his eyes glared threateningly at the
poor besotted one, who showed not the least inclination to obey.

"Off with you, I say! And never show your face here again. I won't
have such low vagabonds as you are about my house. If you can't
keep decent and stay decent, don't intrude yourself here."

"A rum-seller talk of decency!" retorted Morgan. "Pah! You were a
decent man once, and a good miller into the bargain. But that
time's past and gone. Decency died out when you exchanged the pick
and facing-hammer for the glass and muddler. Decency! Pah! How you
talk! As if it were any more decent to sell rum than to drink it."

There was so much of biting contempt in the tones, as well as the
words of the half-intoxicated man, that Slade, who had himself
been drinking rather more freely than usual, was angered beyond
self-control. Catching up an empty glass from the counter, he
hurled it with all his strength at the head of Joe Morgan. The
missive just grazed one of his temples, and flew by on its
dangerous course. The quick sharp cry of a child startled the air,
followed by exclamations of alarm and horror from many voices.

"It's Joe Morgan's child!" "He's killed her!" "Good heavens!" Such
were the exclamations that rang through the room. I was among the
first to reach the spot where a little girl, just gliding in
through the door, had been struck on the forehead by the glass,
which had cut a deep gash, and stunned her into insensibility. The
blood flowed instantly from the wound, and covered her face, which
presented a shocking appearance. As I lifted her from the floor,
upon which she had fallen, Morgan, into whose very soul the