She felt the pain of these blows, in her quickly-aroused sympathy, almost as much as if they had been falling on her own person.

Opposite to where she had paused was a one-story frame house, or enclosed shed, as unsightly without as a pig-pen, and almost as filthy within.

It contained two small rooms with very low ceilings.

The only things in these rooms that could be called furniture were an old bench, two chairs from which the backs had been broken, a tin cup black with smoke and dirt, two or three tin pans in the same condition, some broken crockery and an iron skillet.

Pinky stood still for a moment, shivering, as we have said.