4 NATURE IN A CITY YARD 



fort, low rent, protection from the weather, 

 and a few other matters. Every second or 

 third house in this row has what appears 

 from the front to be a small, windowless 

 gable. But it is n't. It is a flimsy half 

 pyramid of tin and wood, about four feet 

 high; and the rent of a house crowned 

 with this ornament is two dollars a month 

 extra. 



Our neighbors are peaceable, orderly 

 people, for the larger part, though one or 

 two of them do play popular marches on 

 the piano with their windows open. But on 

 every block in a city, as in every village in 

 the country (the number of inhabitants in 

 each case averaging the same), there is sure 

 to be a boy who is the scorn, the by-word, 

 and to a certain extent the terror, of the 

 whole community. The boy on our row 

 who contains sin, vicariously, for the rest 

 of us is Reginald McGonigle, the son of a 

 contractor who is fairly well off through his 

 political privileges, and who has moved in 

 among us, to the general uneasiness. He 

 Michael, not Reginald sits on his door- 

 step in his shirt sleeves at evening, smoking 



