To this Mr. Walcott made no answer. The words but added another pressure to this heavy burden under which he was already staggering. After a silence of some moments, Mrs. Walcott said,
"The coal is all gone."
"Impossible!" Mr. Walcott raised his head, and looked incredulous.
"I laid in sixteen tons."
"I can't help it, if there were sixty tons instead of sixteen; it's all gone. The girls had a time of it to-day, to scrape up enough to keep the fire going."
"There's been a shameful waste somewhere," said Mr. Walcott with strong emphasis, starting up, and moving about the room with a very disturbed manner.
"So you always say, when anything is out," answered Mrs. Walcott rather tartly. "The barrel of flour is gone also; but I suppose you have done your part, with the rest, in using it up."
Mr. Walcott returned to his chair, and again seating himself, leaned back his head and closed his eyes, as at first. How sad, and weary, and hopeless he felt! The burdens of the day had seemed almost too heavy for him; but he had borne up bravely. To gather strength for a renewed struggle with adverse circumstances, he had come home. Alas! that the process of exhaustion should still go on. That where only strength could be looked for, no strength was given.
When the tea bell rung, Mr. Walcott made no movement to obey the summons.
"Come to supper," said his wife, coldly.
But he did not stir.