There were two or three reporters near her. She looked straight ahead and did not answer at all. The sergeant waited a minute; then he asked: “The same old thing?” She nodded, still looking straight before her. “Married?” Her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “That’s too bad, Fanny, you ought to get married.” He finished writing in his book, and then rang for the matron. The bell was out of order, so he sent a messenger. While waiting he said to the girl jokingly: “Couldn’t you see that Dugan was a copper?” She turned and looked at the detective, smiling. She looked at him from top to toe, as if to see whether her judgment had been at fault, or whether she had merely had a case of hard luck. Dugan began to blush and Fanny smiled still more. She had a pleasant face, but in the smile one could see things that the face in repose did not reveal. There was some delay before the matron came. After the little joke on the detective had passed, Fanny’s eyes again filled with tears, which she furtively wiped away with the tips of her fingers. Then the little plump matron appeared in the doorway, beckoned to Fannie with a stiff little finger of rectitude, and they went out of the room together. “It’s a pity she shouldn’t marry; she’s a nice girl,” said the sergeant. “She’s pretty, too,” said a reporter. “Her figure isn’t good enough for me,” said another. “Oh, I guess you’d take her fast enough,” answered the sergeant. The talk was slipping down very rapidly. Few men consider chivalry a thing to be worn all the time. KENNETH BROWN. THE MONK. A Monk who belonged to a very Wealthy Order went forth to beg, pleading great poverty and distress to those from whom he asked alms. He met a Butcher and a Baker to whom he said he had eaten nothing for many days, and that he was almost starved. “How is it thou art so fat?” said they as they drove on their wagons. He met a Tradesman and said he had not had any money for years, even from his youth, as he had long been a Monk. “I have no money to give thee,” said the Tradesman, at the same time jingling a handful of gold coins in his pocket. “I pray Jesus to forgive thee that lie,” said the Monk, “for I hear the coins jingling in thy pockets.” “If thou hast seen so little money in thy life,” said the Tradesman, “how dost thou so well know its jingle?” He met a Fishmonger carrying a basket of fish, coming from attending his nets, to whom he said: “I and my brothers are perishing for want of fish. Pray give us thy basket of fish and go thou and catch others.” “Go and catch thy own fish,” said the Fishmonger, “the waters of the earth are as free for thee to fish in as for me.” He met a Woman at her door, to whom he bowed low and made the sign of the cross: “Kind Madam,” said he, “I and my brothers are perishing for want of food and money. I pray you give unto us according as the Lord hath prospered thee.”