Bill was very much excited, and he took Liz by the hand and started for the big watering trough at the corner of the market. When he reached it he pushed her into the water backward. "That busted up der funeral," as Jimmie said. Such screaming had never been heard in Bucktown. When she at last managed to get out of the icy water she started for Bill, determined to kill him. Dave Beach headed him away from Moore's funeral and gave Morton a chance to close with a feeble prayer. The chance that he had prayed for so long, to reach the people of Bucktown with the gospel, had come and he had lost. He was heart-broken and felt the disappointment keenly. Jimmie was quick to see it and, as the people viewed the remains, he slipped up to Morton, and, pressing his hand, said, "Don't yer care, we'll git 'em all yet." CHAPTER IV _Jimmie's New Pa_ Jasper, the reporter on the Press, knew a good story when he had found one. A quiet visit to the Moore domicile the next afternoon, a brief call at Bill Cook's, and a few liberal potations at Fagin's, were responsible for the write-up which appeared in the evening Press. The pathetic story of sickness, death and privation appealed in a powerful manner to the community. Many well-meaning people flooded the place with provisions and a miscellaneous assortment of wearing apparel, running from silk dresses and opera cloaks to cotton jumpers and soleless patent leathers. As is the case generally, this kind of charity did much more harm than good. For a week they had provision enough to feed every man, woman and child in Bucktown. Mrs. Moore thought it would always be so. She gave up her work and said "she would do nothin' fer nobody." Five days after the funeral Jimmie rushed into Morton's office at the Mission and said, "Say, I got er new Pa at my house." "A new what?" asked Morton in surprise. "A new Pa," said Jimmie. "Me Ma says that Charlie Hathnit would be me Pa from now on; he's been livin' with us fer two days now." Morton was dumfounded. He sat looking at Jimmie a moment; then he said, "Jimmie, this is all wrong. God cannot bless your home with that man there." Morton, reaching out, drew Jimmie to his side and continued, "You promised your father you would run the house and help your mother to care for the family." The diminutive figure of Jimmie suddenly straightened and seemed to increase an inch in height as he answered, looking Morton straight in the eyes, "So I did, and I meant it, too." Then said Morton, "You must not allow that loafer there at all." A moment later Jimmie was at the door. "Where are you going?" inquired Morton.