"Well, you see," said Mr. Jackson, apologetically, "we have been very lenient to your wife, but the rent has not been paid for over two months, and—"
"And you were about to turn her and her children out-of-doors in midwinter," broke in the soldier, wrathfully. "That is the way you sleek, comfortable stay-at-home people care for those fighting your battles. After you concluded that I was dead, and that the rent might not be forthcoming, you decided to put my wife into the street. Open your office, sir, and you shall have your rent."
"Now, Mr. Marlow, there's no cause for pitching into me in this way.
You know that I am but an agent, and—"
"Tell your rich employer, then, what I have said, and ask him what he would be worth to-day were there not men like myself, who are willing to risk everything and suffer everything for the Union. But I've no time to bandy words. Have you seen my wife lately?"
"Yes," was the hesitating reply; "she was here to-day, and I—"
"How is she? What did you say to her?"
"Well, she doesn't look very strong. I felt sorry for her, and gave her more time, taking the responsibility myself—"
"How much time?"
"I said two weeks, but no doubt I could have had the time extended."
"I have MY doubts. Will you and your employer please accept my humble gratitude that you had the grace not to turn her out-of-doors during the holiday season? It might have caused remark; but that consideration and some others that I might name are not to be weighed against a few dollars and cents. I shall now remove the strain upon your patriotism at once, and will not only pay arrears, but also for two months in advance."