“'In the third house from the corner,' pointing to the neat row of small brick houses I have mentioned. 'Come and look at our new home. I want to tell you about it!'
“I was too much pleased to need a second invitation.
“'I've got as clean steps as my neighbors,' she said, with pride in her voice, 'and shades to my windows, and a bright door-knob. It wasn't so in Briar street. One had no heart there. Isn't this nice?'
“And she glanced around the little parlor we had entered.
“It was nice, compared to the dirty and disorderly place they had called their home in Briar street. The floor was covered with a new ingrain carpet. There were a small table and six cane-seat chairs in the room, shades at the windows, two or three small pictures on the walls and some trifling ornaments on the mantel. Everything was clean and the air of the room sweet.
“'This is my little Emma,' she said as a cleanly-dressed child came into the room; 'You remember she was in the school.'
“I did remember her as a ragged, dirty-faced child, forlorn and neglected, like most of the children about here. It was a wonderful transformation.
“'And now,' I said, 'tell me how all this has come about.'
“'Well, you see, Mr. Paulding,' she answered, 'there was no use in John and me trying to be anything down there. It was temptation on every hand, and we were weak and easily tempted. There was nothing to make us look up or to feel any pride. We lived like our neighbors, and you know what kind of a way that was.
“'One day John said to me, “Emma,” says he, “it's awful, the way we're living; we'd better be dead.” His voice was shaky-like, and it kind of made me feel bad. “I know it, John,” said I, “but what can we do?” “Go 'way from here,” he said. “But where?” I asked. “Anywhere. I'm not all played out yet;” and he held up his hand and shut it tight. “There's good stuff in me yet, and if you're willing to make a new start, I am.” I put my hand in his, and said, “God helping me, I will try, John.” He went off that very day and got a room in a decent neighborhood, and we moved in it before night. We had only one cart-load, and a wretched load of stuff it was. But I can't tell you how much better it looked when we got it into our new room, the walls of which were nicely papered, and the paint clean and white. I fixed up everything and made it as neat as possible. John was so pleased. “It feels something like old times,” he said. He had been knocking about a good while, picking up odd jobs and not half working, but he took heart now, quit drinking and went to work in good earnest, and was soon making ten dollars a week, every cent of which he brought home. He now gets sixteen dollars. We haven't made a back step since. But it wouldn't have been any use trying if we'd stayed in Briar street. Pride helped us a good deal in the beginning, sir. I was ashamed not to have my children looking as clean as my neighbors, and ashamed not to keep things neat and tidy-like. I didn't care anything about it in Briar street.'