Love stories; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
Gerhardt closed the door firmly. “Now,” he said, turning to his
daughter and wife, “we will see whether we are rid of him or not. I
will show you how to go after night upon the streets when everybody is
talking already.”
In so far as words were concerned, the argument ceased, but looks and
feeling ran strong and deep, and for days thereafter scarcely a word
was spoken in the little cottage. Gerhardt began to brood over the fact
that he had accepted his place from the Senator and decided to give it
up. He made it known that no more of the Senator’s washing was to be
done in their house, and if he had not been sure that Mrs. Gerhardt’s
hotel work was due to her own efforts in finding it he would have
stopped that. No good would come out of it, anyway. If she had never
gone to the hotel all this talk would never have come upon them.
As for the Senator, he went away decidedly ruffled by this crude
occurrence. Neighborhood slanders are bad enough on their own plane,
but for a man of his standing to descend and become involved in one
struck him now as being a little bit unworthy. He did not know what to
do about the situation, and while he was trying to come to some
decision several days went by. Then he was called to Washington, and he
went away without having seen Jennie again.
In the mean time the Gerhardt family struggled along as before. They
were poor, indeed, but Gerhardt was willing to face poverty if only it
could be endured with honor. The grocery bills were of the same size,
however. The children’s clothing was steadily wearing out. Economy had
to be practised, and payments stopped on old bills that Gerhardt was
trying to adjust.
Then came a day when the annual interest on the mortgage was due, and
yet another when two different grocery-men met Gerhardt on the street
and asked about their little bills. He did not hesitate to explain just
what the situation was, and to tell them with convincing honesty that
he would try hard and do the best he could. But his spirit was unstrung
by his misfortunes. He prayed for the favor of Heaven while at his
labor, and did not hesitate to use the daylight hours that he should
have had for sleeping to go about—either looking for a more
remunerative position or to obtain such little jobs as he could now and
then pick up. One of them was that of cutting grass.
Mrs. Gerhardt protested that he was killing himself, but he explained
his procedure by pointing to their necessity.
“When people stop me on the street and ask me for money I have no time
to sleep.”
It was a distressing situation for all of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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