He bit into an apple. An expression of perfect contentment illuminated his countenance and in a voice husky with fruit began: "Oh, here is a lovely one, Anna," and he declaimed, after the style usually employed by students of the first reader. "Weary Raggles: 'Say, Ragsy, w'y don't you ask 'em for something to eat in dat house. Is you afraid of de dog?'" "Ragsy Reagan: 'No, I a-i-n-t 'fraid of the dog, but me pants is frayed of him.'" "Ha, ha, ha--say, Anna, that's the funniest thing I ever did see. The tramp wasn't frayed of him, but his pants was 'fraid of him. Gee, ain't that a funny joke? And say, Anna, there's a picture with his clothes all torn." Hi was fairly convulsed; he read till the tears rolled down his cheeks. "'Pickin's from Puck, the funniest book ever wrote.' Here's another, Anna." "'A p-o-o-r old man was sunstruck on Broadway this morning. His son struck him for five dollars.'" Hi sat pondering over it for a full minute, then he burst into a loud guffaw that continued so long and uproariously that neither heard the continued rapping on the front door. "Hi, some one is knocking on the front door. Do go and see who it is." "O! let 'em knock, Anna; don't let's break up our party for strangers." "Well, Hi, I'll have to go myself," and she laid down the corn-popper, but the boy got up grumbling, lurched to the door and let in Lennox Sanderson. "'Tain't nobody at home, Mr. Sanderson," said Hi, inhospitably blocking the way. Anna had crouched over the fire, as if to obliterate herself. "Here, Hi, you take this and go out and hold my horse; he's mettlesome as the deuce this cold weather. I want to get warm before I go to Putnam's." Hi put on his muffler, mits and cap--each with a favorite "swear word," such as "ding it," "dum it," "darn it." Nevertheless he wisely concluded to take the half dollar from him and save it for the spring crop of circuses. Anna started to leave the room, but Sanderson's peremptory "Stay here, I've got to talk to you," detained her. They looked into each other's faces--these two, who but a few short months ago had been all in all to each other--and the dead fire was not colder than their looks. "Well, Anna," he said sneeringly, "what's your game? You've been hanging about here ever since I came to the neighborhood. How much do you want to go away?" "Nothing that you could give me, Lennox Sanderson. My only wish is that I might be spared the sight of you." "Don't beat around the bush, Anna; is it money, or what? You are not foolish enough to try to compel me to marry you?" "Nothing could be further from my mind. I did think once of compelling you to right the wrong you have done me, but that is past. It is buried in the grave with my child." "Then the child is dead?" He came over to the fireplace where she stood, but she drew away from him. "You have nothing to fear from me, Lennox Sanderson. The love I felt once is dead, and I have no feeling for you now but contempt."