, while, with her,
Paddy would grow so tender and his knotty features would smooth out so,
the children never would have recognised him.

And Paddy's thousand attentions could only have been prompted by a
loving heart. He even grudged every penny that he had to spend on
himself; and indeed he had often gone hungry that his Peggy might
have some little comfort.

You see, before she was hurt--before that dreadful day when the heavy
four-horse team knocked her down and all but crushed the life out of
her--he used to spend most of his earnings in drink. In fact, to tell
you the honest truth, he was almost always drunk. And sometimes--it
makes the tears come into his eyes to think of it now--he used to beat
her. When he was drunk, you know; never except when liquor had stolen
his brains.

Well, after she was brought in mangled and bleeding, he was so sorry he
had ever treated her unkindly that he nearly lost his mind. He prayed
to God to let her stay with him long enough for him to prove how much he
really loved her.

Afterwards when she lived, although but a crippled, suffering being, he
was so afraid that he might forget himself and abuse her again, that he
never touched a drop of anything stronger than coffee. The poor woman
used to say that it was worth all the pain, and more, too, to have her
husband always himself.

Giving up strong drink was not an easy task for him, and he often wanted
it; but he shunned the society of his drinking friends, and never once
went where he would be tempted.

He pretended not to hear the children's teasing, but it was only
pretence. You see, he loved children dearly. He once had two little
ones of his own, but God took them. For their dear sakes he had tender
feelings toward all children, and it hurt him that these on Jefferson
Square should run away from him every time he came near.

He also disliked their name for him; for his real name was Jerry, not
Paddy at all. He could not help telling his Peggy about it, especially
when they had been unusually thoughtless and teasing.

It was after one of such times that he said to her: "I think I'll have a
little speech with 'em. I'll tell 'em that far from wanting to hurt 'em,
I'll be their friend if they'll let me."

"Do, lovey," replied Mrs. Peggy, "for I'm hatin' to have 'em misjudge
you."

So the very next day he pretended to be raking and sifting until they
came nearer and nearer shouting their jibes and their jeers, when he
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