“But I don't like walking.”
“I am sorry for that. But it is necessary to you, and by and by your life may depend on it.”
Quietly, but inexorably, he dragged her out walking every day.
In one of these walks she stopped at a shop window, and fell in love with some baby's things. “Oh! I must have that,” said she. “I must. I shall die if I don't; you'll see now.”
“You shall,” said he, “when I can pay for it,” and drew her away.
The tears of disappointment stood in her eyes, and his heart yearned over her. But he kept his head.
He changed the dinner hour to six, and used to go out directly afterwards.
She began to complain of his leaving her alone like that.
“Well, but wait a bit,” said he; “suppose I am making a little money by it, to buy you something you have set your heart on, poor darling!”
In a very few days after this, he brought her a little box with a slit in it. He shook it, and money rattled; then he unlocked it, and poured out a little pile of silver. “There,” said he, “put on your bonnet, and come and buy those things.”