cold one day, she took it in such a jocular
fashion that Tig felt not the least concern
about her, and when, two days later, she died
of pneumonia, he almost thought, at first,
that it must be one of her jokes. She had
departed with decision, such as had charac-
terized every act of her life, and had made as
little trouble for others as possible. When
she was dead the community had the oppor-
tunity of discovering the number of her
friends. Miserable children with faces
which revealed two generations of hunger,
homeless boys with vicious countenances,
miserable wrecks of humanity, women with
bloated faces, came to weep over Nora's bier,
and to lay a flower there, and to scuttle away,
more abjectly lonely than even sin could make
them. If the cats and the dogs, the sparrows
and horses to which she had shown kindness,
could also have attended her funeral, the
procession would have been, from a point of
numbers, one of the most imposing the city
had ever known. Tig used up all their sav-
ings to bury her, and the next week, by some
peculiar fatality, he had a falling out with the
night editor of his paper, and was discharged.
This sank deep into his sensitive soul, and
he swore he would be an underling no longer
-- which foolish resolution was directly trace-
able to his hair, the color of which, it will be