“Why, Mrs. Moberly,” he began, “I would like to help you very much, but I don’t quite see my way. I hear your husband is gambling and drinking and not taking care of you and I don’t see how you can ever repay it. Now, if it were not for him, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift. You must know that I have many cases of charity coming to me all the time, and I am sorry to say that they are more urgent than your case can possibly be. I don’t see how I can help you. Of course, you haven’t told me all about your troubles, but I know all about these matters. Ladies imagine they have troubles.” He had gone that far when she realized if she remained in his presence another moment she would cry aloud. He had been her only refuge and he had not only refused her, but called her request charity. Crushed and helpless, she wished him good night and went out into the darkness. Then she realized the straits they were in. The tears she had restrained came now, in spite of all she could do, so she walked on as quickly as she could for fear some one would speak to her. Oh, the misery of it all as she remembered the little faces that had looked so appealingly to her when she could only give them sufficient food to keep them alive and now she cried, “Oh, God! What shall I do? What shall I do?”
She had no car fare and it was dark. The shortest way home was across a lot of vacant property and the fenced-in estate of wealthy men. The streets were lighted only on the corners and between them was dark, for it was in the fall of the year. She had two miles to go and fully one-half was dark. It was the first time in her life that she had been out on the street alone in the dark and she was afraid. When no houses were in sight she ran on and on and at last a man met her about half way in one of the darkest spots. She remembered all the terrible things she had read in the papers of men assaulting women. Still he came nearer and nearer and when close enough to ask her a question, it was only about the locality. She was trembling so much she couldn’t answer him. In her fear she had forgotten her unsuccessful mission. Now it loomed up before her with renewed force. She had been refused help! Another dark stretch of the street was before her. She had walked nearly three miles, counting the walk there and the distance back, but there was no help for it, and she began running, crying as she ran, imploring God to help her and not to let her children starve. “They say there is a God of the fatherless and the widows, but is there none for the drunkard’s wife and his children?” she cried in her misery.
The next day she was ill in bed, her baby cried and there was no one to care for them, all was confusion, and a neighbor called and offered help. In her gratitude she told her of the state she was in and also how her old acquaintance had treated her.
“Oh, yes, you might have known that he wouldn’t help you,” she said, “for he is a hard man.”
“Then why did he tell me to come to him? I never supposed I should need help when he offered.”
“Oh, he knew the signs of the times better than you did. He possibly thought you might become like many others at such a time, and then when you came to him he would know how to get around you.”
“Oh, no, no, Mrs. Carr, he couldn’t have had such a thought. I cannot believe it.” Then Mrs. Carr said, “Why didn’t he help you?”
“I don’t know, but he could not be so cruel as that.”
“Well, I don’t think he could have been worse than he has been. Now I am going to tell you what to do, Mrs. Moberly, so you can earn a little money. Sell your best furniture. Fit up your dining room and kitchen for yourself and your children and rent the rest.”