Amos could well remember when Sillbrook had been only a mill-hand like himself, earning twelve dollars a week. But he had been a prudent, saving man always, and had early made up his mind to be rich, no matter at what cost of conscience and principle. With this end in view he had purchased a saloon, and cordially invited his former fellow workers at the mill to patronize him. This they were very willing to do, for Sillbrook knew how to make his saloon attractive; and he soon had as much custom as he could well attend to. At length he hired a bar-keeper, and after a couple of years was never seen behind the bar himself. He had grown rich very rapidly, and now owned one of the finest houses in the town, and was able to gratify every taste and whim, while those who had helped him to his wealth by drinking his liquors were as poor as ever—many of them poorer.
Amos Derby had been one of Sillbrook's best customers ever since the saloon had been opened, and as a natural consequence had had little to spend in comforts for his wife and children. He still lived in the small cottage he had bought on first moving to the town, and had seen it grow more and more dilapidated every year without making any attempt to repair it.
But though the outside was far from attractive, the inside was always neat and clean, for, whatever her faults of temper, Jane Derby was a woman who believed thoroughly in abiding by heaven's first law, and who labored early and late to make both ends meet, something she would not have been able to accomplish had she not possessed skill as a dressmaker, for Amos seldom gave her any of his earnings. She was sitting in the kitchen sewing when her husband came in, and a bitter expression crossed her face as she saw his condition.
"Drunk, as usual," she said, harshly, "when were you anything else?"
"When you was kinder spoken, perhaps," answered Amos, with spirit. "This is the sort of welcome I get every night in the week. 'Tain't much wonder I go to Sillbrook's." He dropped into a chair as he spoke, and began to pull off his boots.
"If you didn't have one excuse you'd make another," said Jane, flushing, and bending closer over her sewing. "Perhaps you think I ought to feel pleasant when you come home in this state. Well! it ain't human nature, that it ain't! I mind the time you brought home your wages reg'lar, every Sat'day night, and I was willin' enough then to speak kind to you. Now the children would starve if it wasn't for me. Where's your overcoat?" a sudden pallor creeping into her face as she asked the question. "Yes! where is that overcoat?—what have you done with it that you haven't it on—where is it?"
"Where d'ye s'pose?" said Amos, roughly.
"Down at the pawn-shop, of course," cried his wife, angrily, "where every decent coat you ever had has gone. But you promised me you'd never part with this one, Amos Derby, and you've broke your word. I might have known you would! And to think how I worked for it, and let the children do without shoes! It's too bad! I declare it is! I gave twelve dollars for it only a month ago, and I'll wager you let Levi have it for half o' that. It's a shame, a dreadful shame."
"Stop that. I won't have it," said Amos in a threatening tone. "There's no use whining over it now. If you say another word about it I'll go out again, right off."
"Go!" said Jane, fiercely, "and I wish it was forever! I wish I was never to look on your face again! You're naught but a trouble and a disgrace to us all!"