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or the electricity in a house went wrong, the captain was always available until the mechanical doctor could come. He had put out one fire with a garden hose. He had cured innumerable sticking drawers (scorning compensation for such an obvious neighborly duty), he had put in panes of glass and planed off doors and mended sidewalks, and he kept three hatchets to lend. No, the captain was too good a neighbor to lose.

"At laist yous could hilp him wid this year's instalment," said Patsy; "'tis siven years they give 'em to pay up. And as a friend Oi'd ask the privilige to be on the paper. And Oi'm thinkin' 'twill maybe cheer the captain up a bit; he's gitting rale down-heartid and discouraged. You see his eyes is a failin' a little, as is only suitable for his age; but it hurts him; and only yistiddy a lady—Oi won't name her—he done a chair sate for her, upholstering it rale nate, to my moind, but she found fault wid it; and he tuk aff fifty cints to satisfy her. It hurted him. He says, 'She's the second in wan wake,' says he; 'Oi'm losin' me grip,' says he. And he worries 'bout old Hetty Couriers, that has lived wid him and his wife iver since the war, Oi guess. She lost her little savings linding 'em to a cousin. He tried his bist to kape her from it, but 'twas no good. You'd ought to seen the scorchin' letther he was afther writin' thot man. Onluckily he'd skipped before he got it, so 'twas wastid loike. And ye know he's lost three old frinds this same year, includin' his old gineral. The old man died down in Ohio, and by some mishtake it didn't git into the papers. Thot cut the captain. 'They're forgittin' us,' says he, 'it's toime for us to be gettin' aff the stage; there ain't nothin' more for us to do.' Oi think the sooner we kin git thot paper up the betther. For the mon was wild last night, he'd thot horror of debt, and he didn't know which way to turn. Oi've been lookin' fur him all day. He talked loike he wud turn over the whole property to the city and go out to Sophy. 'But she's got wan sick man on her hands,' says he; 'she hadn't ought to have another! And what'll become of poor Hetty? I don't see no way out!' says he."

"But he was around this morning," said the grocer, "telling funny stories; he had got a new one, real funny——"

"That's only his sand," the ex-judge interrupted. "I had a talk with him this afternoon. He was in a bad way. But wasn't it just like him? Of course I wouldn't charge for a little neighborly advice like that; and just a little while before I came out Hetty was over with a package from the captain—he'd sent me a little champfer tool of his I'd always admired: I'm a bit of a carpenter, for amusement, you know. Somehow, I wished he hadn't done that, do you know?"

Patsy had listened, with a frown. "Oi don't loike his actions," he muttered; "does annybody know where he is at this spaking?"

"A woman … was in the doorway beckoning."

His answer was some one in the group pointing towards the captain's house. A woman, an elderly woman with gray hair, was in the doorway, frantically beckoning.

Every man and woman in the crowd, except the teacher, ran instinctively and silently towards the house. The teacher's face went white; she caught up the child at her side and carried him a little space. "Go home, go right home," she commanded, while the child stared, frightened at the strange something in her mother's voice; "tell Johnny and Harry to go home, and wait for me!"

Then she, too, ran to the captain's house. The yard was full of people, standing in groups, very quiet. Patsy O'Brien came out. The tears were running down his sun-burnt cheeks. "They've sint for a doctor," said he. "'Tis no good; Oi've seen death on too manny min's faces not to know it. He's gone. They downed him, and he'd not the courage to go on. He'd a bit of a letther writ to"—Patsy choked—"to me. His frinds was about all gone, he says, and now they was takin' away his home; and he knowed