"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!" "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.