uch hope of it."

"You say she actually works in the field?" John exclaimed, with a
shudder and a darkening face.

"Not always, but sometimes when Joel is away or sick, or when the crops
are suffering for immediate attention. You know labor is high and cash
is generally paid, and Joel hasn't the means to hire help at the time he
needs it the most. Take cotton-picking, for instance. If the staple
isn't taken from the boll in time the weather stains and ruins it. It is
at a time like that that Tilly helps. But don't let it fret you. She
told me, with that sweet smile of hers that I used to love so much when
me and you was boarding with her folks, that outdoor work was good for
her. But Joel objects to it. I saw him come out in the corn one day and
take the hoe away from her and send her in the house. I never saw a
sadder look on a proud man's face.

"'She _will_ do it,' he said to me, almost groaning, as he spoke. Joel
got confidential that day. He talked free-like, as men do when they
reach the very bottom of ill luck. 'I thought,' said he, 'that I was
doing right in marrying Tilly, for she was all alone in the world and
unprotected, but you see what I've brought her to. I had hopes then-- I
have none now. Things never take an upward turn for some men, Cavanaugh.
They head downward, and they pull everything they touch with them. They
marry wives and make them suffer. They bring children into the world to
suffer, and they go on that way till the earth receives their useless
remains, and that is the end of their dreams.'

"I tried to cheer him up, but I couldn't. I wish, John, that I could
tell you about his unselfishness as to one thing in particular, but I
reckon I'd better not. It would do no good. I see from your looks that
all this is going hard with you."

"No, nothing is to be gained by it, Sam," John said, shrugging his
shoulders. He looked at his watch. "You must go to lunch with me," he
said. "I want to see as much of you as possible while you are here."

"I am agreeable," Cavanaugh said, with a touch of his former ease of
manner. "It seems like old times once more, my boy."

* * * * *

They lunched together and afterward went to the small hotel where
Cavanaugh was staying, got the old man's valise, and went to John's
home. Cavanaugh was put into Dora's old room and given to understand
that it was his as long as he remained in the city. For a week the two
friends were const