ille's wife lay upon a ragged lounge, while Mrs. Hardy's
cook kneeled by her side and in her native Swedish tongue tried to
comfort the poor woman. So it was true that these two were sisters.
The man was still conscious, and suffering unspeakably. The railroad
surgeon had been sent for, but had not arrived. Three or four men and
their wives had come in to do what they could. Mr. Burns, the foreman,
was among them. One of the men spoke in a whisper to him:

"Have you been to see Mr. Hardy?"

"Yes; but he was at church. I left word about the accident."

"At church! So even the devil sometimes goes to church. What for, I
wonder? Will he be here, think?"

"Don't know!" replied Mr. Burns curtly.

"Do you mind when he [pointing to Scoville] saved Mr. Hardy's life?"

"Remember it well enough; was standing close by."

"What'll be done with the children when Scoville goes, eh?"

"Don't know."

Just then the surgeon came in and preparations were rapidly made for
the operation. The last that Mr. Hardy heard was the shriek of the
poor wife as she struggled to her feet and fell in a fit across the
floor where two of the youngest children clung terrified to her dress,
and the father cried out, tears of agony and despair running down his
face. "My God, what a hell this world is!"

The next scene was a room where everything appeared confused at first,
but finally grew more distinct and terrible in its significance. The
first person Mr. Hardy recognised was his own oldest boy, George, in
company with a group of young men engaged in--what! He rubbed his eyes
and stared, painfully. Yes: they were gambling. So here was where
George spent all his money, and Bessie's too! Nothing that the
miserable father had seen so far cut him to the quick quite so sharply
as this. He had prided himself on his own freedom from vices, and had
an honest horror of them: for Mr. Hardy was not a monster of iniquity,
only an intensely selfish man. Gambling, drinking, impurity--all the
physical vices--were to Mr. Hardy the lowest degradation.

The thought that his own son had fallen into this pit was terrible to
him. But he was compelled to look and listen. All the young men were
smoking, and beer and wine, which stood on a buffet at one side of the
room, were plentifully partaken of.

"I say, George," said a very flashily-dressed youth, who was smoking
that invention of the devil, a cigarette, "your old man would rub his
eyes to