rmit her to go in debt for the rent of a house in case her litigation
against the company is not successful.

True, the rope by which the cage had been lifted and lowered had worn
thin, and the foreman had warned the superintendent the morning of the
accident that a new one was needed. But the poor Magyar at the bottom of
the shaft did not know it. He had in no way contributed to the
negligence which brought about his death. He knew his work was perilous.
In the law, it is a question whether or not the case can be successfully
defended by the coal company.

Trueman's trip to the Clerk's office has been for the purpose of
ascertaining the miner's standing with reference to his citizenship at
the time of his death. With his experience in the practice, the lawyer
surmised that the Magyar was never naturalized. If he was not
naturalized, his widow has no standing in the court where the suit has
been brought. In that case, it belongs to the Federal Court, and his
widow and orphan, as well as the impecunious lawyer who has taken the
widow's case on a contingent fee, will not have the means nor the
fortitude to begin action in the higher court.

Trueman discovers after a few moments of investigation in the Clerk's
office that his suspicion is well founded. The miner had never taken out
naturalization papers.

Cruel? In the concrete, perhaps. The law is made for the multitude.

"It is a legitimate defense!" Trueman murmurs to himself, as he passes
down the stairs. "The Magyar bore none of the burdens of citizenship.
Neither should he or his, share in the protection which the State of
Pennsylvania affords her citizens."

"Will the Magyar's widow get anything?" asks O'Connor, one of the
half-Irish, half-Italian miners, whose elbow Trueman brushes as he walks
towards the court room.

Trueman befriended O'Connor once in the matter of rent.

"No. He was not naturalized!"

"His blood be on old Purdy's head, then!" says O'Connor. "The mine boss
has said he will put her out in the street. She's already months back in
her rent."

Trueman passes on as if he has not heard O'Connor, who is at the Court
House as one of the witnesses.

As the young lawyer pushes his way into the court room his quick glance
catches the bent form of the woman in the front seat, clad in the
cheapest of black, and the open-eyed boy at her side.

The proceedings are short. Trueman sits down at one of the tables inside
the bar enclosure and hastily