roundings, I know that every babe is born a child of God, not of the devil."
They climbed a dark stairway and knocked at the back door of a double-decker tenement.
A stout woman opened it, and they entered the tiny kitchen, so small that the table had to be pushed against the wall to pass it and the family of six could not all eat at one time because the table could not be pulled out into the room.
"How is John this afternoon, Mrs. McDonald?"
"We don't know, sir. The doctor's in there now. If he dies, God knows what we will do; and if he lives, a cripple, it'll be worse."
The doctor called them into the front room and whispered to Gordon:
"He's got to die, and I'm going to tell him. I'm glad you are here."
He took the man by the hand.
"Well, John, I'm sorry to say so to you, but you must know it. You can't live beyond the day."
The man drew himself upon his elbow, looked at the doctor in a dazed sort of way and then at his wife holding his crying baby in her arms, the other little ones clinging to her dress, and gasped:
"Did you say die? Here—now—to-day—die? And if I do, I leave my helpless ones to starve."
He paused, fingering the covering nervously, shut his jaws firmly and looked at the doctor.
"Almighty God! I can't die!" he growled through his teeth. "I will not die!"
