into the ball-room. "I never did see the like of a beggar who sits out yonder by the staircase. He isn't at all like a starling on a fence," she went on, "for he won't answer, and he won't say 'Thank you,' and won't so much as lift a finger, though I did give him twopence."
"The least a beggar can do is to say 'Thank you,'" cried a young sheriff's clerk who was of the party. "He must be a pretty fellow whom I cannot get to speak, for I've made thieves and stiff-necked folk open their mouths wide before this."
As he said this he ran out to the stairs, and bawled out in our clerk's ear, for he thought he was hard of hearing—
"What do you sit here for, you, sir?" And then again, "Are you poor? Do you beg?"
No, our clerk said never a word. So he took out half-a-dollar, and threw it into his hat, saying, "There's something for you." But our clerk was still silent, and made no sign. So when he could get no thanks out of him, the sheriff's officer gave him a blow under the ear, as hard as he could, and down fell our clerk head over heels across the staircase. And you may be sure the girl Mary was not slow in running to the spot.
"Are you in a swoon, or are you dead, father," she screeched out, and then she went on screaming and bewailing herself.
"It's quite true," she said; "there's no peace for the poor after all, but I never yet heard of any one laying themselves out to strike beggars dead."
"Hush! Hold your tongue," said the sheriff's
