essful, but
to-night it had no quick effect. The words, coming from her lips, were
like the refrain of an old ballad, but the man remained stolid.

"Daddie! My Daddie! Oh, Daddie are yeh mad at me, really--truly mad at
me!"

She touched him lightly upon the arm. Should he have turned then he
would have seen the fresh, laughing face, with dew-sparkling eyes, close
to his own.

"Oh, Daddie! My Daddie! Pretty Daddie!"

She stole her arm about his neck, and then slowly bended her face toward
his. It was the action of a queen who knows that she reigns
notwithstanding irritations, trials, tempests.

But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad
energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a
grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a
brute-cry, burst from her. "Daddie!" She flung herself to a place near
the door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the
motionless figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire. Her
arms extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and repelled.
There was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an expression
of the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had been a
splendour, was in these moments changed to a disordered mass that hung
and swayed in witchlike fashion.

Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of
agony--it was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the
first word of a tragic conversation with the dead.

It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had jostled
the corpse in such a way, that now she and it were face to face. The
attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table. The eyes,
fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred.

* * * * *

The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a loud
slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the
boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply.

"What is it?"

"What's th' matter?"

"He's killin' her!"

"Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack."

But over all this came the shrill shrewish tones of a woman. "Ah, th'
damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' street--that's what he's
doin.' He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street."

HOW THE DONKEY LIFTED THE HILLS.

Many people suppose that the donkey is lazy. This is a great mistake. It
is his pride.