be laid to rest 'neath the sod of mother earth.

But to return to the scene on Spring street.

As the little group pass up the street her very beautiful face does not
escape the notice of the crowd of idlers gathered on the corners gazing
impudently at the passers by.

Among these idlers is one of the city's most popular society gentlemen
and ball-room devotees, and we hear him mutter to himself as he stares
impudently at her pretty face: "Ah, my beauty, I shall locate _your_
dwelling place later on. You are too fine a bird to be lost sight of."

He follows her to her lodging, and day by day studies her habits.

He discovers that she goes nowhere except to her daily toil and to
church. He visits the church, and finding no opportunity to approach her
there, is about to give up the chase when he finds out that the
denomination does not condemn dancing.

"Ah, now," he says, "I have you."

He goes to one of the most fashionable dancing schools, where he is well
known, and explains his difficulties to the dancing master, who is ever
ready to take part in just such dirty work, for it is from the pay for
such work that he derives much of the profit of his school.

He sends her a highly colored, gilt-edged card containing a pressing
invitation to attend his _select_ school.