made my boasts never once to have hired a day's work or a washing done in all my married life. Poor health in itself 's a dretful affliction, but it's nothin' in my opinion to the hired help which comes in its train." Sheriff Thomas, sitting hopelessly on the edge of her bed, whistled a funeral march in dreary notes.

"The case is peculiar," he declared as the tune came to an end, "and ordinary hired help ain't fit to be trusted with county responsibilities. I wonder if one of Hiram Hodges's girls would n't come down for a spell jest to accommodate. The Hodgeses are mighty dependable stock, and in pickin' a hired help for the county I feel jest as I did in pickin' a wife for myself,- the best ain't none too good."

"I don't believe but what they would," assented Mrs. Thomas in a relieved tone. "Never havin' been used to village life, those girls would n't be light-headed and flighty like so many young folks nowadays. You better set right down and write up to their folks."

So it came about that one April morning Roxella, youngest of Hiram Hodges's seven daughters, stood just behind Jailer Thomas while he unlocked the heavy iron door which shut the stone jail off from the white house. Roxella's rosy cheeks were a little pale. "I'm almost scairt," she acknowledged in an awestruck whisper. "Are they awful bad?

"Bad enough," returned Jailer Thomas, whose gloom was still apparent. "There ain't no actual murderers among them that's ever manifested themselves as such, but there's one sheep thief which makes the general average pretty low. That's him sulkin' by the window of his cell 'way down along. I've had several sheep thieves more or less in the last twelve years, but I can't recall one that 's ever turned out well yet. Now mind, Roxelly, you ain't to hold any converse with 'em whatsoever. I don't know what your

father 'n' mother 'd say to me lettin' you sweep this corridor anyhow, but I'm clear at my wit's end unless you do. I'm too fur behind with the county's plantin' to do any more such work myself, and I don't dare risk Emily Ann gettin' around to see it in this state. Like enough she'd have a relapse. You ain't scairt, be you? There ain't none of 'em really dangerous. If they speak to you don't answer. They get sassy sometimes.'

Left alone in the long chilly corridor, lighted only by a high window at either end, Roxella strove to quiet her fears. "There is n't anything to be scared of, she assured herself, even while uncomfortably mindful of interested faces looking out upon her from five of the grated doors.

"Good-mornin', miss, how long are you in fur?" called a derisive voice. "Sent up for stealin' some poor feller's heart most likely," added another. Roxella did not even glance toward the line of doors, but commenced her work in a far corner by an unoccupied cell. "I won't be scared," she insisted to herself, and in an attempt to prove it began the first verse of Pull for the Shore, in a voice which quavered noticeably at first, but increased in power as she sang. "That's a handsome piece, miss; give us another," suggested the prisoner who had first accosted her, as the song came to an end. The voice at least held no note of wickedness, and Roxella, though mindful of her instructions to make no reply, summoned courage for a glance in its direction. glance was followed at intervals in her work by others toward the line of faces still regarding her with deep interest. Roxella's spirits lightened suddenly, and she was conscious that she had expected to find these prisoners not unlike the Wild Man from Orinoco, who had grimaced and gnashed his teeth at her from his securely barred cage in the circus at Plainville last summer. These men, hardened criminals though they

The

were in Roxella's estimation, differed not in general appearance from the customers she was accustomed to serve in her father's little country hotel far up the river. Four of them were young, not so very far past her own age. The fifth, a gray-haired man, whose mild blue eyes smiled vacantly upon her, called her Susie, and begged her to bring him a handful of dandelions from the grassy yard below. Roxella hesi

66

tated. Jailer Thomas's prohibition of conversation had not included dandelions. "He ain't wicked so much as he is foolish," decided Roxella as she passed the coveted blossoms through the grating. And goodness knows I've seen fools enough in my life, so I need n't be scared of them." She shook her head in refusal of a polite request for squash blossoms from cell No. 4, and even smiled guardedly at No. 3's petition for a fresh watermelon. It was not so bad after all; these young men might have been a party of honest woodsmen come in for supper after a hard day's toil. She glanced with some apprehension at the occupant of No. 6, who had thus far taken no notice of her presence. "That's the sheep stealer," she remembered uncomfortably, with a second glance at the stalwart figure which stood back to the door with hands deep in its pockets, staring out of the narrow window. "He looks dangerous," decided Roxella.

There was one more prisoner, a little apart from the others, in cell No. 9. Roxella noticed with some curiosity that this cell was larger than the others and rather more comfortable. A vase of flowers stood upon the window ledge, and a table with writing materials occupied the centre of the room. A young man whose dress was somewhat superior to that of the other prisoners sat beside the table, his head pillowed upon his folded arms. Roxella observed that his hair was black and curly, and wondered as she carefully swept the corners of his doorway what

injustice or misfortune had brought him here. "He certainly ain't like the others," she decided, even before the prisoner lifted his head to regard her mournfully with large eyes set in a face of startling pallor. He sighed heavily and dropped his head upon his arms once more. The girl's heart stirred with pity, and she began to regret the command which prevented an expression of it. She lingered a little by the door, wondering if he would address her, but he took no further notice of her presence.

"Roxelly," said Peterson Thomas doubtfully, three mornings later, “do you s'pose you could give the boarders their feed, come noontime, for a spell? Now we're workin' on that northeast medder I could save an hour for the county ev'ry day by not comin' home. I hate to have you do it, but it don't seem jest right to waste the county's time. You wouldn't be scairt, would you?

Roxella consented readily. mite," she declared.

"Not a

"So fur as that goes, Peterson Thomas continued musingly, "I s'pose you've fed worse criminals 'n they be, many's the time, and never give it a thought. The criminals ain't all behind bars, and there's some men in that ought to be out, though that ain't for us to settle. I ain't sayin' but what there's such in this very jail. However, our part is to keep 'em safe and give 'em enough to eat. Nobody livin' can't say a prisoner ever went hungry from this jail yet. You 're sure you ain't scairt? Well, don't talk to 'em, and above all don't let 'em think you feel scared."

"I ain't," Roxella declared stoutly. "I've got all over that.”

"It's funny," she said reflectively, sitting by Mrs. Thomas's bedside a week later. "But there ain't a man up there that's done a thing to be put in for without it's the sheep stealer, and he don't say a word as to whether

he did or did n't. They don't of any 'em say a word about each other, but accordin' to each man's own story there ain't a guilty one there."

"There never is," replied the prostrate mistress of the house skeptically. "In all the years I've been here we 've never had one that was guilty by his own showin', except a crazy man who confessed to a crime he never committed, and was proved innocent against his own testimony. You can't help their running on to you I s'pose, but you must n't talk back to 'em, Roxelly. Peterson would be terrible put out.

6

"No, ma'am, I don't," replied Roxella obediently, adding a moment later, "that is, not without it 's just to pass the time of day, or say do tell' or 'is that so?' or something. I don't even do that much talkin' with the sheep man. He acts dreadful ill natured. You don't suppose he's dangerous, do you?"

Mrs. Thomas shook her head contemptuously. "There never was one of his breed had spunk enough to be dangerous," she said. "They 're a bad lot all through, and Peterson and I both hope he'll get a long term when his case comes up. Just let him sulk it out and take no notice of him."

Roxella portioned the plain fare provided by Evergreen County for its prisoners into seven narrow tin trays, and surveyed it doubtfully. "I s'pose a hotel bringin' up makes this look meaner," she mused; "but the county's well-to-do, and on the ground of holdin' every man innocent till he's proved guilty I must say I can't see any justice in it. No. 9 don't eat enough to keep a mouse alive, and I believe his appetite needs temptin'. Neither the county nor Peterson Thomas would want him to go into a decline on their hands."

She resolutely added a rhubarb pie to the tray, and carefully cut it in seven impartial sections. "Nobody ever told me not to," she protested to her conscience as she traversed the long corridor, "and anyhow rhubarb 's cheap."

"I'll leave it for you to say," she said, standing pie in hand before the door of cell No. 1. "The county ain't been accustomed to servin' desserts, but those that think they ain't undeservin' of pie can have it.”

There was no apparent feeling of unworthiness until she timidly repeated her formula at the door of No. 6. To her surprise the tall prisoner smiled and shook his head. "I guess I ain't worthy, miss," he admitted, attacking his bread and potatoes with the appetite of a hungry man. Roxella reflected upon his hardened character as she went on to No. 9, who pushed aside the plainer food disdainfully, but consumed the two remaining pieces of pie with apparent relish. "It reminds me of home, he said in a subdued tone. longing for a piece of my mother's pie this morning when I saw you pulling rhubarb in the jail garden. I have watched you far more than you know in the past two weeks. You can never realize how a true woman's presence brightens even a gloomy prison. I hope your womanly powers of perception have revealed to you that I am not like these others." Roxella blushed.

"I was

"Of course I could n't help seeing there was a difference," she acknowledged shyly.

"A political prisoner has much to endure of injustice and persecution, he continued sadly; "but he has the satisfaction of knowing that no one, not even his enemies, can rate him with the common criminal. My only crime is in loving my native land too well. Yet in the dreary days which passed before you came to lighten the darkness I never regretted it."

Roxella listened attentively. It sounded like a book.

"It's a downright pity," she declared in deeply sympathetic tones. "I wish there was something more I could do for you, she added bashfully. "Could you relish a custard, do you suppose?

were in Roxella's estimation, differed not in general appearance from the customers she was accustomed to serve in her father's little country hotel far up the river. Four of them were young, not so very far past her own age. The fifth, a gray-haired man, whose mild blue eyes smiled vacantly upon her, called her Susie, and begged her to bring him a handful of dandelions from the grassy yard below. Roxella hesi

tated. Jailer Thomas's prohibition of conversation had not included dandelions. "He ain't wicked so much as he is foolish," decided Roxella as she passed the coveted blossoms through the grating. "And goodness knows I've seen fools enough in my life, so I need n't be scared of them." She shook her head in refusal of a polite request for squash blossoms from cell No. 4, and even smiled guardedly at No. 3's petition for a fresh watermelon. It was not so bad after all; these young men might have been a party of honest woodsmen come in for supper after a hard day's toil. She glanced with some apprehension at the occupant of No. 6, who had thus far taken no notice of her presence. "That's the sheep stealer, she remembered uncomfortably, with a second glance at the stalwart figure which stood back to the door with hands deep in its pockets, staring out of the narrow window. "He looks dangerous," decided Roxella.

A

There was one more prisoner, a little apart from the others, in cell No. 9. Roxella noticed with some curiosity that this cell was larger than the others and rather more comfortable. vase of flowers stood upon the window ledge, and a table with writing materials occupied the centre of the room. A young man whose dress was somewhat superior to that of the other prisoners sat beside the table, his head pillowed his folded arms. upon Roxel

la observed that his hair was black and curly, and wondered as she carefully swept the corners of his doorway what

injustice or misfortune had brought him here. "He certainly ain't like the others," she decided, even before the prisoner lifted his head to regard he mournfully with large eyes set in a fa of startling pallor. He sighed heavi' and dropped his head upon his ar once more. The girl's heart stir with pity, and she began to regret command which prevented an exp sion of it. She lingered a little by door, wondering if he would ad her, but he took no further noti her presence.

"Roxelly," said Peterson T doubtfully, three mornings later you s'pose you could give the ers their feed, come noontime spell? Now we're workin' northeast medder I could save for the county ev'ry day by no home. I hate to have you do don't seem jest right to waste ty's time. You wouldn't would you?"

Roxella consented readily mite," she declared.

"So fur as that goes, Thomas continued musingl you 've fed worse criminalmany's the time, and ne thought. The criminals hind bars, and there's that ought to be out, tho for us to settle. I ai what there's such in However, our part is to and give 'em enough t livin' can't say a pri hungry from this ja sure you ain't scairt? to 'em, and above: think you feel scared

"I ain't," Roxell "I've got all over t

"It's funny," s' sitting by Mrs. T week later. "Bu: up there that's do in for without it and he don't say