MEG OF THE SLUMS
By Jessie Ethel Sherwin
Two girls came face to face on the
crowded city street one, Oro Leith,
richly dressed, fair of face; the other,
Meg .Powers, a child of tne slums.
The latter wore tatters, she was
weeping bitterly. A policeman held
her by the wrist and she was' evi
dently in custody.
"I wasn't in that den they raided,"
sobbed the poor creature, "of my
own choice. I was looking for my
drunken father. Oh, please let me
"I can't do it, Meg, my girl," re
sponded the officer, and there was a
trace of pity in his face. Its the
judge that sentenced you. There is
$10 and costs to pay or 24 days in
the reformatory. I believe you are
telling the truth, but I must obey or
A wave of deep sympathy over
spread the beautiful face of Ora
Leith. The impulse of a good heart
drove her to touch the arm of the
officer and stay him.
"Oh, miss!" pleaded the unfortu
nate girl, "please, help me! There'll
be no one to take care of my poor
crippled brother ifI am taken away.
You are rich and good, I can see that.
I'm poor, but I'm a good girl, too, in
deed I am! I was looking for my
father when the police came. I was
not one of that wicked crowd. If
you will pay the fine, miss, I'll work
my finger nails off to pay you."
"It's $12.50, the fine and costs,
ma'am," volunteered the officer. "If
you can afford it you never did a bet
ter act, for Meg is all she says."
Miss Leith opened her pocketbook.
She glanced over its contents.
She had run up from her home
town, Wellington, 50 miles away, to
i do some shopping. She looked trou
bled as she discovered that her purse
contained a bare five dollars.
Ora had noted an ominous sign
. "ar bv "Pawn Shon." She shud-,
ing. Within the chamois receptable
dered at a thought that had come to
her mind connecting such a place
with misery and crime. Then her
pulses fluttered, her hands stole In
side of her dress- and her eyes be
came dewy as she drew thence a lit
tle chamois bag.
She was' young, only a trace of
sadness marred the rare peaceful
loveliness of that rare face. Yet Ora
had known sorrow, deep and last-
Asked for a Loan of Terf Dollars.
was a diamond circlet, an engage
ment ring, and he who had bestowed
it Was lost, vanished, perhaps dead!
This was her young life's romance.
A year previous young Dr. Albion
Gage had won her love., He had a
rival, young Barton Grey, a dissolute,
false-hearted knave. In some" way
Grey had learned that the father of
Gage had been a drinking man. He
counted on the curse beine: latent in
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