“Why didn’t you let me know it was bad as that?” he asked.  “I don’t mean that anybody here should suffer while I’ve got a cent.”

“The folks don’t like to be begging, sir,” said Ellen sorrowfully, “but there’s lots of them does be in trouble.  They’d ought to go away when the mills shut down, but for nobody knows where to go.  Farley ain’t like them big towns where a man’d pick up something else to do.  I says to Mike:  ’Come, Mike, let’s go up after dark and tark to Dan; he’ll help us out if he can,’ says I—­”

“Sit down, Ellen,” said the agent kindly, as the poor woman began to cry.  He made her take the armchair which the weave-room girls had given him at Christmas two years before.  She sat there covering her face with her hands, and trying to keep back her sobs and go quietly on with what she had to say.  Mike was sitting across the room with his back to the wall anxiously twirling his hat round and round.  “Yis, we’re very bad off,” he contrived to say after much futile stammering.  “All the folks in the Corporation, but Mr. Dow, has got great bills run up now at the stores, and thim that had money saved has lint to thim that hadn’t—­’twill be long enough before anybody’s free.  Whin the mills starts up we’ll have to spind for everything at once.  The children is very hard on their clothes and they’re all dropping to pieces.  I thought I’d have everything new for them this spring, they do be growing so.  I minds them and patches them the best I can.”  And again Ellen was overcome by tears.  “Mike an’ me’s always been conthrivin’ how would we get something laid up, so if anny one would die or be long sick we’d be equal to it, but we’ve had great pride to see the little gerrls go looking as well as anny, and we’ve worked very steady, but there’s so manny of us we’ve had to pay rint for a large tenement and we’d only seventeen dollars and a little more when the shut-down was.  Sure the likes of us has a right to earn more than our living, ourselves being so willing-hearted.  ’Tis a long time now that Mike’s been steady.  We always had the pride to hope we’d own a house ourselves, and a pieceen o’ land, but I’m thankful now—­’tis as well for us; we’ve no chances to pay taxes now.”

Mike made a desperate effort to speak as his wife faltered and began to cry again, and seeing his distress forgot her own, and supplied the halting words.  “He wants to know if there’s army work he could get, some place else than Farley.  Himself’s been sixteen years now in the picker, first he was one of six and now he is one of the four since you got the new machines, yourself knows it well.”

The agent knew about Mike; he looked compassionate as he shook his head.  “Stay where you are, for a while at any rate.  Things may look a little better, it seems to me.  We will start up as soon as anyone does.  I’ll allow you twenty dollars a month after this; here are ten to start with.  No, no, I’ve got no one depending on me and my pay is going on.  I’m glad to share it with my friends.  Tell the folks to come up and see me, Ahern and Sullivan and Michel and your brother Con; tell anybody you know who is really in distress.  You’ve all stood by me!”