born to live in a basement and do janitor's work," says
Vee. "For you know Gummidge puts most of it on her. No, her people were
fairly well-to-do. Her father ran a shoe store up in Troy. They lived
over the store, of course, but very comfortably. She had finished high
school and was starting in at the state normal, intending to be a
teacher, when she met Henry Gummidge and ran off and married him. He was
nearly ten years older and was engineer in a large factory. But he lost
that position soon after, and they began drifting around. Her father
died and in the two years that her mother tried to manage the shoe store
she lost all that they had saved. Then her mother died. And the
Gummidges kept getting poorer and poorer. But she doesn't complain. She
keeps saying that everything will turn out all right some time. I hope
it does."

"But I wouldn't bank heavy on it," says I. "I never studied Hen.
Gummidge's palm, or felt his bumps, but my guess is that he'll never
shake the jinx. He ain't the kind that does. He's headed down the chute,
Henry is, and Ma Gummidge is goin' to need all her reserve stock of
cheerfulness before she gets through. You watch."

Well, it begun to look like I was some grand little prophet. Even as a
janitor Hen. Gummidge was in about the fourth class, and the Patricia
apartments were kind of high grade. The tenants did a lot of grouchin'
over Henry. He wouldn't get steam up in the morning until about 8:30. He
didn't keep the marble vestibule scrubbed the way he should, and so on.
He had a lot of alibis, but mostly he complained that he was gettin'
rheumatism from livin' in such damp quarters. If it hadn't been for Vee
talkin' smooth to the agent Gummidge would have been fired. As it is he
hangs on, limpin' around gloomy with his hand on his hip. I expect his
joints did pain him more or less. And at last he gives up altogether and
camps down in an easy chair next to the kitchen stove.

It was about then he heard from this brother of his out in Nebo, Texas.
Seems brother was an old bach who was runnin' a sheep ranch out there.
Him and Henry hadn't kept close track of each other for a good many
years, but now brother Jim has a sudden rush of fraternal affection. He
wants Henry and his family to come out and join him. He's lonesome, and
he's tired of doin' his own cookin'. He admits the ranch ain't much
account, but there's a livin' on it, and if Henry will come along he'll
make him an equal partner.