"Yes"--"Yes"--"I have, often," ran round the bar-room.

"You'd better hang me at once," said Slade, affecting to laugh.

At this moment, the door behind Slade opened, and I saw his wife's
anxious face thrust in for a moment. She said something to her
husband, who uttered a low ejaculation of surprise, and went out
quickly.

"What's the matter now?" asked one of another.

"I shouldn't wonder if little Mary Morgan was dead," was
suggested.

"I heard her say dead," remarked one who was standing near the
bar.

"What's the matter, Frank?" inquired several voices, as the
landlord's son came in through the door out of which his father
had passed.

"Mary Morgan is dead," answered the boy.

"Poor child! Poor child!" sighed one, in genuine regret at the not
unlooked for intelligence. "Her trouble is over."

And there was not one present, but Harvey Green, who did not utter
some word of pity or sympathy. He shrugged his shoulders, and
looked as much of contempt and indifference as he thought it
prudent to express.