services.
Reuben Gray offered himself as sponsor with Hannah, who had no right to
refuse this sort of copartnership.

The child was christened Ishmael Worth, thus receiving both given and
surname at the altar.

When the afternoon worship was concluded and they left the church,
Reuben Gray walked beside Hannah, begging for the privilege of carrying
the child--a privilege Hannah grimly refused.

Reuben, undismayed, walked by her side all the way from Baymouth church
to the hut on the hill, a distance of three miles. And taking advantage
of that long walk, he pleaded with Hannah to reconsider her refusal and
to become his wife.

"After a bit, we can go away and take the boy with us and bring him up
as our'n. And nobody need to know any better," he pleaded.

But this also Hannah grimly refused.

When they reached the hut she turned upon him and said:

"Reuben Gray, I will bear my miseries and reproaches myself! I will bear
them alone! Your duty is to your sisters. Go to them and forget me." And
so saying she actually shut the door in his face!

Reuben went away crestfallen.

But Hannah! poor Hannah! she never anticipated the full amount of misery
and reproach she would have to bear alone!

A few weeks passed and the money she had saved was all spent. No more
work was brought to her to do. A miserable consciousness of lost caste
prevented her from going to seek it. She did not dream of the extent of
her misfortune; she did not know that even if she had sought work from
her old employers, it would have been refused her.

One day when the Professor of Odd Jobs happened to be making a
professional tour in her way, and called at the hut to see if his
services might be required there, she gave him a commission to seek work
for her among the neighboring farmers and planters--a duty that the
professor cheerfully undertook.

But when she saw him again, about ten days after, and inquired about his
success in procuring employment for her, he shook his head, saying:

"There's a plenty of weaving waiting to be done everywhere, Miss
Hannah--which it stands to reason there would be at this season of the
year. There's all the cotton cloth for the negroes' summer clothes to be
wove; but, Miss Hannah, to tell you the truth, the ladies as I've
mentioned it to refuses to give the work to you."

"But why?" inquired the poor woman, in alarm.

"Well, Miss Hannah, because of what has happened, you know. The world is
very unjust