"Does she bring any of it home? Does the family get the good of any of
it?"
"Not one cent," said Mrs. Kimper, with a pitiful whine. "She says she
has to wear decent clothes at the hotel or they won't keep her there
any more."
Sam Kimper stayed awake all that night, although his manners to his
family next morning were those of a staid and respectable citizen who
had nothing upon his mind but the ordinary duties of the day.
Nevertheless, he was out and about soon after breakfast, and he
wandered through every street of the village in which any business was
being done. Again and again he asked for work, and as often the offer
was refused or declined or relegated into the uncertain future for a
decision. The surplus in his pocket had grown lamentably small. As he
made his way homeward in a physical and mental condition which made it
impossible for him either to argue to himself or to express a sense of
hope to any extent, he passed the shop of Larry Highgetty. Larry was a
shoemaker. Sam had worked at shoemaking while he was in State prison.
He felt, although Larry might have been offended at the imputation,
that there ought to be a fellow-feeling between them; so he ventured
into the shop. Larry was sitting at his bench with a lady's shoe in one
hand and with his head leaning against the wall of the room.
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