James Barclay’s disappointment was intense when he discovered that his father had eluded him. He was almost penniless, and had nothing of sufficient value to pawn. Had he raised the sum which he had expected from old Jerry, it is doubtful whether he would have returned to his family in Jersey City. As it was, he had no other resource. His wife, who took in washing to do at home, was hard at work ironing when the door opened and her husband entered. A frown was on his face, and he was evidently in ill temper. A cat, the family pet, being in his way, he kicked her brutally, and the poor animal, moaning piteously, fled in wild dismay. “Get out of the way, you beast!” he said, angrily. “Don’t kick poor Topsy!” pleaded his wife. “I am afraid you have hurt the poor little thing.” “Keep her out of my way, then,” growled Barclay. “I hate cats. You must be a fool to keep one.” “The children love poor Topsy, James,” said his wife. “I suppose you’d keep a snake for them, if they liked it.” “A kitten is very different from a snake.” “I shall kill it some time if it gets in my way. Have you got anything to eat in the house?” Mrs. Barclay paused in her work long enough to get some bread and meat from the pantry, which she set before her husband. “Where are the children?” he asked, after a while. “They have gone to school.” “They ought to be earning something at their age,” growled Barclay. “They are very young yet, James. You wouldn’t have me take them from school?” “School won’t do ’em much good.” “You wouldn’t have them grow up ignorant, surely?” “They have got to earn something. I can’t support them in idleness.” As it was some years since he had contributed a cent to their support, his wife didn’t quite appreciate his complaint, but she knew too much of her husband’s temper to argue with him. “Jimmy sells papers when he gets home from school,” she said. “How much does he earn that way?” “Sometimes from fifteen to twenty cents.” “He’ll need to earn more, I can tell you that. I’m very poor, Ellen, and cursed unfortunate, too. I haven’t money enough to buy a ten cent cigar.” “I will try to support the children if you will take care of yourself, James.” Any man with a spark of true manhood in him would have been shamed by such a proposition, but James Barclay was a thoroughly selfish man. It seemed to him that his wife ought to support him, too. “Have you got a dollar about you, Ellen?” he asked. “Ye-es,” she answered, hesitatingly, “but I must buy some bread and groceries this evening, or the children won’t have their supper.” “Seems to me you care more about the children than you do about your husband. A pretty wife you are!” “I don’t deserve that, James. Of course you are welcome to your share of the supper.” “Thank you! So you want to treat me as a child.”