wouldn't have made such a fool of myself."

Paula laughed.

"There's still time," she said mischievously. "It's never too late to
mend, you know." Leading him once more in the direction of the street,
she added: "This is the bright side of my work; I'll let you look now on
the darker side. It isn't so pleasant. Come with me."

Docilely he followed her out of the building, wondering where he was
being taken, caring little, so long as she was with him. This dark-eyed
girl, with her serious views and charming manner, had already taken a
strong hold of the young man. She was utterly different from any girl he
had ever known, and cogitating secretly with himself, he came to the
conclusion that the comparison was in her favor.

Quite unconscious that she was the object of her companion's thoughts,
Paula hurried along the narrow, slippery pavements, crowded with
pale-faced women and children, obstructed by all kinds of wagons and
hucksters' pushcarts. Stopping for a moment at a delicatessen shop, she
purchased some ham, eggs, butter, and bread, and then hastened on again
until she came to a big, dreary tenement.

"We go in here," she said, quite out of breath after the quick walk. "It
is the home of one of my favorite pupils, Annie Hughes. They are
wretchedly poor. The father is an incorrigible drunkard and the mother
is bedridden. Only the devotion of her child keeps her alive. I want you
to see Annie. She is only twelve, but she does the work of two women.
She cannot play like other children of her age, yet she never complains.
She is entirely devoted to her mother. It's a dreadful hovel they live
in. You'll be shocked at what you see, but don't show surprise. Mrs.
Hughes is a decent woman, and it will only distress her. She's
consumptive and can't live long. If she dies I shall adopt and educate
Annie as my own."

They entered a dark, narrow, forbidding-looking hallway, with walls
thickly begrimed with the accumulated filth of years, and so cracked
that the plaster in places had fallen out in huge chunks, exposing the
wood lathing. At the far end was a winding, ricketty staircase, every
stair filthy with refuse and rubbish, and only dimly lighted by small
windows that did not look as if they had been washed since the house was
built. It was a steep climb to the sixth floor, and both were out of
breath when they reached the top. Paula approached a door, and knocked.

"Is that you, Annie?" called out a feeble voice.