It was on a dull, cold evening that Peter Lacy, a poor labourer, having finished the clump of turf which he had engaged to do, put on his ragged coat, and walked up to the door of his employer to receive his wages. “I have no silver at present,” said the gentleman, “but come next Monday, and you shall be paid.”
It was three miles to his home, and, on his way, he passed the cabin of a poor man whom he knew very well. There was a little garden before it, and every thing looked clean and decent. It was true the family who lived there were very poor, and met with many crosses; but, let what would happen, Michael Connor and his wife were always cheerful, and were never heard to complain, because they were sure that nothing happens by chance, having read in the Bible, that not even a sparrow falleth to the ground without the knowledge of God.
“There now,” said Lacy to himself, “there’s the comfort of a quiet wife! Mary Connor is always good tempered and mild; while my Susan is for making bad worse, by her crying and scolding at every hand’s turn. A dry morsel with a quiet house, is better than plenty of provision with grumbling.” Lacy did not know that Solomon had said nearly the same: for Lacy never read the Bible; and as for going to prayers, he left it to those who had a better coat than his to put on.
“Well neighbour,” said Connor, “how does the world jog with you?”
“It’s all on three legs,” said Lacy, “for ’tis money makes the mare to go, and money I have none.”
“I wish I could help you,” said Connor, “but I got my week’s wages yesterday, and lent them to Wilson, whose wife is sick in bed: he was to pay me to-day, but went home without thinking of it; however, walk in and rest yourself.”
Mary welcomed her husband with smiles, and had made the room very neat against his return. The table was scoured as clean as sand and water could make it; the hearth was nicely swept, and the dinner was over the fire.
“Come sit down,” said the good-natured Connor, “eat an egg, and Mary shall put a bit of bacon on the gridiron that we bought the other day.” “No, no,” replied Lacy, “keep it for your dinner to-morrow, you will have but a poor meal at best.”
Mary understood what he meant: she hung down her head for a minute; but then looking cheerful again, she said, “If you have not got the money, my dear, we must do the best we can—while God sends us health, and thankful hearts, we need not complain at the want of a meal’s meat.”
“You are a good woman, Mrs. Connor,” said Lacy; “my Susan will give me no such comfort.”