The young man growled out an oath. He saw McGonagle looking at him through Riley’s window, and Riley, himself, with a grin upon his face. A Saturday night crowd filled Second Street; many that knew him stopped and looked and laughed; on the opposite corner, in front of Kerrigan’s saloon and under the glare of an arc lamp, a crowd of loungers were enjoying the sight; Officer Hogan was slyly pointing at him with his club, and saying something to the bartender who stood in the doorway. “And is me poor home not good enough for yez,” went on Mrs. Nolan with increased pitch, “that yez do be kapin’ me daughter stan’in’ in the strate till be talked about. Divil a better had yez father till he tuk to sellin’ the drop. Lave go av me arm Bella; I’ll go home whin I plaze!” “Ye’ll go home now!” said her son, pushing his way through the crowd which had collected. “For God’s sake,” as she began struggling, “don’t make a show of yourself! T’ink of the neighbours!” “May the divil fly away wid the neighbours! What call have I till be afeerd av thim?” “Come on, Mom,” urged Bella, almost in tears, “if ye go on this way, I’ll never show me face outside the door again!” “Ye promised to do right,” said Dick, with white face, “and ye’ll never get another cent o’ my money in yer hands as long as ye live!” Kelly had darted into Riley’s; and the tittering, thoughtless crowd was growing greater. “Is this the way yez talks till yez owld mother!” cried Mrs. Nolan. “May the cross av Christ darken the day yez wur born.” A man laughed loudly: Dick turned with a snarl, caught him by the throat with one hand, the other drawn back for a blow. Bella screamed and Hogan ran across the street. “Don’t hit him,” shouted the policeman; “don’t hit him, Dick!” He dragged the angry, shame-maddened youth away from his victim. “I don’t want to pull yez,” said he, “for I know just how it is. Go along home, now and take yez mother wid ye.” The mother, frightened by her son’s sudden exhibition of fury submitted to being led away. And an hour afterward she was deep in a drunken sleep on a narrow settee in her kitchen. Bella sat upon the steps leading to the room above, and her brother was walking the floor, his head throbbing and a sickening feeling at his heart. “It’s a bad t’ing to say,” said he suddenly, “but sometimes I wisht she was in her grave.” “Dick!” cried his sister, frightened. “I know! I know!” waving his hand impatiently, “yer goin’ to say that it ain’t right; an’ I know that as well as you.” He paced up and down in silence for a moment. “Look at what I could do for her,” he resumed, “if she’d on’y do what was right. I make big money, and I’d a-bought a house out o’ the Building Association long ago if it hadn’t been for that”--with a gesture toward the sleeping form. “She could live like a lady--like a lady! And I’d only ask her to do right.” He took a clay pipe from the shelf over the door and struck a match upon the stove.