In two weeks, Henry Small called at the carpenter’s house, and paid the half dollar he had borrowed. It was sixteen years before he saw him again.
In that time John Lowe had grown old and feeble. He could not labor much, and when hard times came he had no work, and had nothing with which to buy bread for himself and his wife.
Two of his children had died, and the other two were sailors, and far away from home. He had no one to help him, and he feared that he should be obliged to go to the almshouse.
Every day he went out, hoping to find a job by which he could earn enough to buy food for himself and his wife; but he was disappointed.
At last he made up his mind to apply to the overseers of the poor for assistance, for he had not even a loaf of bread in the house, or any money.
On his way to the City Hall, he entered a store where some carpenters were at work making alterations, and asked the master workman for a job.
“I can give you no work here,” was the rough reply.
The unkindness of the answer touched his feelings, and a tear slid down his cheek.
“What do you want?” asked a gentleman, in kind tones.
He was the person who was about to go into business in the store.