assailant,
the door of the hovel was darkened by a screen of eager faces. And
such faces! How little of God's image remained in them to tell of
their divine origination!--bloated and scarred, ashen pale and wasted,
hollow-eyed and red-eyed, disease looking out from all, yet all lighted
up with the keenest interest and expectancy.

Outside, the crowd swelled with a marvelous rapidity. Every cellar and
room and garret, every little alley and hidden rookery, "hawk's nest"
and "wren's nest," poured out its unseemly denizens, white and black,
old and young, male and female, the child of three years old, keen,
alert and self-protective, running to see the "row" side by side with
the toothless crone of seventy; or most likely passing her on the way.
Thieves, beggars, pick-pockets, vile women, rag-pickers and the like,
with the harpies who prey upon them, all were there to enjoy the show.

Within, a desperate fight was going on between Pinky Swett and the woman
from whose hands she had attempted to rescue the child--a fight in which
Pinky was getting the worst of it. One garment after another was torn
from her person, until little more than a single one remained.

"Here's the police! look out!" was cried at this juncture.

"Who cares for the police? Let 'em come," boldly retorted the woman. "I
haven't done nothing; it's her that's come in drunk and got up a row."

Pushing the crowd aside, a policeman entered the hovel.

"Here she is!" cried the woman, pointing toward Pinky, from whom she
had sprung back the moment she heard the word police. "She came in here
drunk and got up a row. I'm a decent woman, as don't meddle with nobody.
But she's awful when she gets drunk. Just look at her--been tearing her
clothes off!"

At this there was a shout of merriment from the crowd who had witnessed
the fight.

"Good for old Sal! she's one of 'em! Can't get ahead of old Sal, drunk
or sober!" and like expressions were shouted by one and another.

Poor Pinky, nearly stripped of her clothing, and with a great bruise
swelling under one of her eyes, bewildered and frightened at the aspect
of things around her, could make no acceptable defence.

"She ran over and pitched into Sal, so she did! I saw her! She made
the fight, she did!" testified one of the crowd; and acting on this
testimony and his own judgment of the case, the policeman said roughly,
as he laid his hand on Pinky.

"Pick up your duds and come along."

Pinky lifted her