Jack looked at the man. Leveridge had turned his face to the wall, and was breathing hard; and at intervals a convulsive movement interrupted his long-drawn inspirations. He put up his hand to lay hold of the coverlet and draw it over his shoulder, and it shook—he could catch hold of nothing. Jack did not speak. He thought: Let him cry, it will do him good. Tears will wash out his fault; and a fault it was in him to neglect home, even for his political party. Home claims first duties, then come others. If we begin the other way on, we are setting a steeple weathercock downwards, and laying the foundations in the clouds. Presently Leveridge turned his face round, but would not let the light shine on his eyes; therefore he moved it on the pillow to where it was crossed by the shadow of his wife. Then he sighed and said, “Such a child as was my Rosie! There is no angel in heaven like her. Dear me! I was all for patching of the Constitution, and never mended up my own house. I am a mason, and did not put a bit of plaster to that crack in the wall; and the wind blew in on my little Rosie, and the draught killed her. I’m sure if I were dying——” “You are not dying,” said his wife; “you are only laid by for a bit.” “Ay,” said Thomas, “I’m tied to home by my leg, and serve me right; and now I can’t go to the poll.” He began to kick about. “You must not do that,” said Mrs. Leveridge. “The doctor said you were to lie still.” “I can’t help it, Marianne,” said the mason. “I’m real hearty glad I can’t go to the poll. It just serves me right, and touches me where I’m most tender. When I think of what I have done in leaving you alone, and my Rosie ill, I feel that ashamed as I’d like to dive under the bedclothes and never come up no more. Now look here, Jack. You are not a married man, nor thinking of it.” “No,” said Jack, retreating a step; “I’m rather too young, thank you kindly.” “No offence, it was well meant,” said the mason. “What I was going to say to you——But there, I hear your name called below. Run and see who wants you.” The young man descended the stairs. At the foot stood Kate with a newspaper in her hand. “Were you calling me?” asked Jack. “I wanted to know if you’d be so very good as to go over the advertisements with me,” said Kate timidly. “I am a poor scholar; and I want to know if there is something in the paper that might suit me.” “I’ll do it,” said Jack. He took the newspaper and spread it out on the kitchen table under the latticed window. “Let’s see—what do you want?” “Go right through, if you please.” “‘Messrs. Hampton will sell by auction this day that desirable——’” “No, Jack, I’m not going to stand that.” “‘Tenders are invited for new offices.’” “That’s hardly in my way.” “‘Three thousand gentlemen’s cast-off suits, overcoats, boots——’” “No, I shouldn’t know what to do with them all.” “‘Electrical engineering. A vacancy for an articled pupil.’”