cottsville, to my sister's; but curse _me_ if I'll go
till I pay that devil an' get them clothes!"

A sudden savage light in her blurred eyes betrayed the passion of the
mother-love, through all the filth and soilure of her degradation.
Gabriel felt his heart deeply moved. He bent toward her, across the
table, touched her hand and asked:

"Will you accept five dollars, to pay this man and get you down to
Scottsville?"

"Huh?" she queried, gazing at him with vacant, uncomprehending eyes.

He repeated his query. Then, as he saw the slow tears start and roll
down her wan cheeks, he felt a greater joy within his breast than if the
world and all its treasures had been his.

"Will I take it?" she whispered. "Gord, _will_ I? You bet I will! That
is, if I can have your name, an' pay it back some time?"

He promised, and wrote it down for her, giving as his address Socialist
Headquarters in Chicago. Then, without publicity, he slipped a V into
her trembling hand.

"Come on," said he. "_That's_ all settled!"

He paid the check, and they went out, together. For a moment they stood
together, undecided, on the sidewalk.

"Couldn't I get them things to-night, an' start?" asked she, eagerly.
"There's a train at 11:08, on the B. R. & P."

"All right," he assented. "Can you see this Micolo, now? It's after
ten."

"Oh, _that_ don't make no difference," she answered. "He runs a pawnshop
over here on Dexter Street, two blocks east. He'll be open till
midnight, easy, tomorrow bein' the Fourth."

"Come on, then," said Gabriel. "I'll see you through the whole business,
and onto the train. Maybe I can help you, all along."

Without another word she started, with Gabriel at her side. They
traversed the main street, two blocks, then turned to the left down a
narrower, darker one.

"Here's Micolo's," said she, pausing at a doorway. Gabriel nodded. "All
right," he answered. He had not noted, nor did he dream, that, at the
corner behind them, two slinking, sneaking figures were now watching his
every move.

The woman turned the knob, and entered. Gabriel followed.

"It's on the second floor," said she. Gabriel saw a sign, on the
landing: "S. L. Micolo, Pawn Broker," and motioned her to precede
him.

In a minute they had reached the upper hallway. The woman opened another
door. The room, inside, was dark.

"This way," said she. "He's in the inside office, I guess. The light
must ha' gone out here, some