Calvary Alley

								


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                             CALVARY ALLEY



                          BY ALICE HEGAN RICE



                                 1917

Author of "MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH," "LOVEY MARY," "SANDY," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY WALTER BIGGS
THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO THE SMALL BAND OF KENTUCKY
WRITERS WITH WHOM IT HAS BEEN MY HAPPY FORTUNE TO MAKE THE LITERARY
PILGRIMAGE

CONTENTS
CHAPTER

     I THE FIGHT

    II THE SNAWDORS AT HOME

   III THE CLARKES AT HOME

    IV JUVENILE COURT

     V ON PROBATION

    VI BUTTERNUT LANE

   VII AN EVICTION
VIII AMBITION STIRS

    IX BUTTONS

     X THE PRINCESS COMES TO GRIEF

    XI THE STATE TAKES A HAND

   XII CLARKE'S
XIII EIGHT TO SIX

   XIV IDLENESS

    XV MARKING TIME

   XVI MISS BOBINET'S
XVII BEHIND THE TWINKLING LIGHTS
XVIII THE FIRST NIGHT

   XIX PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT

    XX WILD OATS

   XXI DAN
XXII IN THE SIGNAL TOWER
XXIII CALVARY CATHEDRAL
XXIV BACK AT CLARKE'S

   XXV MAC
XXVI BETWEEN TWO FIRES
XXVII FATE TAKES A HAND
XXVIII THE PRICE OF ENLIGHTENMENT
XXIX IN TRAINING

   XXX HER FIRST CASE
XXXI MR. DEMRY
XXXII THE NEW FOREMAN
XXXIII NANCE COMES INTO HER OWN

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"The boy is infatuated with that girl"
"Her tense muscles relaxed; she forgot to cry"
"Don't call a policeman!" she implored wildly

CALVARY ALLEY

CHAPTER I
THE FIGHT

You never would guess in visiting Cathedral Court, with its people's hall
and its public baths, its clean, paved street and general air of smug
propriety, that it harbors a notorious past. But those who knew it by its
maiden name, before it was married to respectability, recall Calvary
Alley as a region of swarming tenements, stale beer dives, and frequent
police raids. The sole remaining trace of those unregenerate days is the
print of a child's foot in the concrete walk just where it leaves the
court and turns into the cathedral yard.
All the tired feet that once plodded home from factory and foundry, all
the unsteady feet that staggered in from saloon and dance-hall, all the
fleeing feet that sought a hiding place, have long since passed away and
left no record of their passing. Only that one small footprint, with its
perfect outline, still pauses on its way out of the alley into the great
world beyond.
At the time Nance Molloy stepped into that soft concrete and thus set in
motion the series of events that was to influence her future career, she
had never been told that her inalienable rights were life, liberty, and
the pursuit of happiness. Nevertheless she had claimed them intuitively.
When at the age of one she had crawled out of the soap-box that served as
a cradle, and had eaten half a box of stove polish, she was acting in
strict accord with the Constitution.
By the time she reached the sophisticated age of eleven her ideals had