the Sunday school. No mother wanted her child to associate with a
criminal's daughter; naturally she drifted away from the regular
services, and soon it was publicly announced that her name had been
dropped from the roll of membership. After that she never came.

It was not long until the girl had such a name that no self respecting
man or woman dared be caught recognizing her on the street.

The people always spoke of her as "that Grace Conner."

The girl, hurt so often, grew to fear everyone. She strove to avoid
meeting people on the street, or meeting them, passed with downcast
eyes, not daring to greet them. Barely able to earn bread to keep life
within her poor body, her clothing grew shabby, her form thin and worn;
and these very evidences of her goodness of character worked to
accomplish her ruin. But she was a good girl through it all, a good girl
with a bad reputation.

She was cowering at the foot of the monument, her face buried in her
hands, when the Doctor touched her on the shoulder. She started and
turned up to him the saddest face the old physician had ever seen.

"What's the matter, my girl?" he said as kindly as he could.

She shook her head and buried her face in her hands again.

"Please go away and let me alone."

"Come, come," said the Doctor laying his hand on her shoulder again.
"This won't do; you must tell me what's wrong. You can't stay out here