he had been two years dying, and they had five small children. And on
the other side were the Rapinskys, a Polish family; they had been
strong in the possession of three grown sons, and had even bought a
phonograph. And now not one of them had done a stroke of work for
three months.

To have been robbed and put in jail seemed a mere incident in
comparison with such bitter and I lifelong suffering; and Samuel was
ashamed of having made so much fuss. He had stated, with some
trepidation, that he was just out of jail; but Mrs. Stedman had not
seemed to mind that. Her husband had been in jail once, during the big
glass strike, and for nothing more than begging another man not to
take his job.

It was arranged that Samuel was to pay her thirty-five cents for his
supper and bed and breakfast, and if he wished to stay longer she
would board him for four dollars a week, or he might have the room
alone for a dollar.

The two young children came in from school; they were frail and
undersized little girls, with clothing that was neatly but pitifully
patched. And shortly after them came Sophie.

Samuel gave a start of dismay when he saw her. He had been told that
she worked in the cotton mill and was the mainstay of the family; and
he had pictured a sturdy young woman, such as he had seen at home.
Instead, here was a frail slip of a child scarcely larger than the
others. Sophie was thirteen, as he learned afterwards; but she did not
look to be ten by his standards. She was grave and deliberate in her
movements, and she gazed at the stranger with a pair of very big brown