“An awful world. They come and take the woman—hold her down under their knees—hold her throat tight in their fingers—like I hold this cloth—tight—and stick a dagger into her heart. And they set fire to the house—to the big house—all the smoke comes out of the windows—and flames—bigger and hotter than in the stove there—oh, terrible flames!—and the little boy’s face comes to the window—and they all laugh. Ho! ho! ho! Then the whole house falls in—and the little boy’s face disappears—and oh, how high the flames go up!” He looked around him, smiling. A chill struck the heart of every one of his hearers. He shook his head slowly and said to Marna: “Right, Marna! It is a terrible world.” The sweater was busy with his accounts and had not heard. But the sudden cessation of work made him look up, and hearing Scharenstein address the woman, and seeing others looking at her, he turned upon Marna. “Confound it! Is this a time to be idling? Stop your chattering and back to work. We must finish everything before——” There was something harsh and grating in his voice that seemed to electrify Scharenstein. Dropping his work, he sprang between the sweater and Marna and held out his arms beseechingly. “Oh, spare her! For God’s sake spare her! She is an innocent woman! She has done you no harm!” And as he stood with outstretched arms, his shirt fell open, and every eye saw plainly upon his breast the red sign of a crude cross. The sweater fell back in amazement. Then a sudden light dawned upon him, and, in an altered tone, he said: “Very well. I will do her no harm. Sit down, my friend. You need not work to-day if you are not feeling well. I will get someone to take your place, and—and—” (it required a heroic effort) “you will not lose the day’s pay. You had better go home.” Scharenstein smiled and thanked the sweater. Then he started down the stairs. Marna followed him, and with her arm around him helped him down the steps. “My little boy is playing in the street,” she said. “Why don’t you take him for a walk to the park where you took him before? It will do you good, and he will be company for you.” Scharenstein’s face lit up with pleasure. Marna’s little boy had frequently accompanied him on his walks to the Battery, and to see the little fellow romping about and hear him screaming with delight at the harbour sights had filled Scharenstein’s heart with exquisite pleasure. He now sought the boy. He found him playing with his companions, all of them running like mad through all that fierce heat. “Boy!” cried Scharenstein. “Look!” The boy turned and saw Scharenstein standing erect with one arm held straight over his head, the other clasped against his breast as though he were hugging something—the attitude of the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. With a shout of delight he ran toward his friend, crying, “Take me with you!” And hand in hand they walked down to the sea-wall.