"All right," said Amos, as he pulled on his boots again, "I'm goin'. I'll take you at your word. You won't see me again in a hurry; now you just mark that. A trouble and a disgrace, am I?"
"Yes, you are!" said Jane, her anger increasing as her mind dwelt upon the loss of the coat she had worked so hard to earn. "I mean all I've said, and more, too! Go! go to Sillbrook's! Ask him to show you the overcoat he's wearin'. I saw it yesterday, and yours wasn't a circumstance to it! Go! Give him every penny you've got! He needs it!" with a bitter little laugh. "His children's feet are all out on the ground, and his wife hasn't a decent dress to her name," with a glance at her faded calico gown. "Help him all you can, Amos Derby, he's in need o' charity."
Amos made no answer. He was considerably more sober than when he had left the saloon, for the walk home through the fresh winter air had done him good, and he felt the force of his wife's words. They rung in his ears as he slammed the kitchen door behind him, and, taking the road which led by the mill, walked rapidly away.
He was soon in the heart of the town, but he did not think or care where he was going. His only idea was to get away from the sound of Jane's sharp voice, and he turned down first one street and then another, without pausing, until he came to Elm Avenue, on which were situated the handsomest houses in the town. There was a large, square brick house on the corner, with stables in the rear, a conservatory on one side, and a beautiful lawn in front, and this place seemed to possess some strange fascination for Amos, for he stopped suddenly at the gate and stood there for fully five minutes, admiring, perhaps, the mansion's air of solid comfort and wealth.
The iron gate was open, and presently, as if impelled by some impulse he could not resist, he entered, and walking softly up the graveled path, looked in at one of the long windows.
The room upon which he gazed was very handsomely furnished. The chairs were luxuriously cushioned, a large mirror hung over the mantel, the carpet was of velvet, a crystal chandelier depended from the ceiling, and a bright fire burned in the open grate, before which sat a lady richly dressed, reading aloud to three children, sitting on ottomans at her feet.
For a long, long time Amos Derby stood by the window, his eyes wandering from one article of luxury to another, a dark frown on his face, and his teeth set hard together.
"My money," he muttered, when at last he turned away. "I've given it to him, cent by cent, and dollar by dollar, and I've naught to show for it, while he! he's got his fine house, and his rich carpets, and his handsome clothes. It's the same money, only I've spent it in one way, and he in another."
As the last words left his lips a hand fell heavily upon his shoulder, and a voice—the voice of Sillbrook—asked him harshly what he wanted.
"A look into your fine parlor," answered Amos roughly. "Strange I wanted to see it, wasn't it? It ought not to matter to me, of course, what use you make o' my money."