Sam's wife was a
cold-blooded creature; the baby was somewhat ailing; it would not do
for the fire to go out, yet the fuel he had carried in at morn could
not more than last until evening. The little money that had come into
the shop during the day would barely purchase some plain food, of which
there was never in the house a day's supply. He had not the courage to
ask credit for wood; his occasional attempts to "get trusted" had all
failed, no matter how small the article wanted. He looked for Larry
Highgetty, his employer, to beg a small loan, but Larry, though he came
into the shop every morning for his share of the previous day's
earnings, could not be found that afternoon.
Suddenly, when the sun was almost down, Sam remembered that a house was
being built several squares away. Carpenters always left many scraps
behind them, which village custom allowed anyone to pick up. The
cobbler devoutly thanked heaven for the thought, closed the shop, and
hurried away to the new building. The men were still at work, and there
was a great deal of waste lying about.
"May I have some of these leavin's?" asked Sam of the master builder.
The man looked down from the scaffolding on which he stood, recognized
the questioner, turned again to his work, and at last answered, with a
scowl,--
"Yes, I suppose so.
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