She smiled faintly."Yes, there was," she admitted."But I don't know that it is worth while troubling you, after all.It is not likely that you can help me.I don't see how any one can.""Probably you're right.I--I ain't liable to be much help to anybody.But I'm awful willin' to try.And sometimes, you know--sometimes surprisin' things happen.'Twas a--a mouse, or a ground mole, wasn't it, that helped the lion in the story book out of the scrape?...Not that I don't look more like a--er--giraffe than I do like a mouse," he added.
Mrs.Armstrong turned and looked at him once more."You're very kind," she said."And I know you mean what you say....Why, yes, I'll tell you the rest.Perhaps," with the slight smile, "you CAN advise me, Mr.Winslow.You see--well, you see, my brother will be freed very shortly.I have received word that he is to be pardoned, his sentence is to be shortened because of what they call his good conduct.He will be free--and then? What shall he do then? What shall we all do? That is my problem."She went on to explain.This was the situation: Her own income was barely sufficient for Barbara and herself to live, in the frugal way they were living, in a country town like Orham.That was why she had decided to remain there.No one in the village knew her story or the story of her brother's disgrace.But now, almost any day, her brother might be discharged from prison.He would be without employment and without a home.She would so gladly offer him a home with her--they could manage to live, to exist in some way, she said--but she knew he would not be content to have her support him.There was no chance of employment in Orham; he would therefore be forced to go elsewhere, to go wandering about looking for work.And that she could not bear to think of.
"You see," she said, "I--I feel as if I were the only helper and--well--guardian the poor boy has.I can imagine," smiling wanly, "how he would scorn the idea of his needing a guardian, but I feel as if it were my duty to be with him, to stand by him when every one else has deserted him.Besides," after an instant's hesitation, "I feel--I suppose it is unreasonable, but I feel as if I had neglected my duty before; as if perhaps I had not watched him as carefully as I should, or encouraged him to confide in me; Ican't help feeling that perhaps if I had been more careful in this way the dreadful thing might not have happened....Oh," she added, turning away again, "I don't know why I am telling all these things to you, I'm sure.They can't interest you much, and the telling isn't likely to profit either of us greatly.But I am so alone, and I have brooded over my troubles so much.As I said Ihave felt as if I must talk with some one.But there--good morning, Mr.Winslow.""Just a minute, please, Mrs.Armstrong; just a minute.Hasn't your brother got any friends in Middleford who could help him get some work--a job--you know what I mean? Seems as if he must have, or you must have.""Oh, we have, I suppose.We had some good friends there, as well as others whom we thought were friends.But--but I think we both had rather die than go back there; I am sure I should.Think what it would mean to both of us."Jed understood.She might have been surprised to realize how clearly he understood.She was proud, and it was plain to see that she had been very proud of her brother.And Middleford had been her home where she and her husband had spent their few precious years together, where her child was born, where, after her brother came, she had watched his rise to success and the apparent assurance of a brilliant future.She had begun to be happy once more.Then came the crash, and shame and disgrace instead of pride and confidence.Jed's imagination, the imagination which was quite beyond the comprehension of those who called him the town crank, grasped it all--or, at least, all its essentials.He nodded slowly.
"I see," he said."Yes, yes, I see....Hum.""Of course, any one must see.And to go away, to some city or town where we are not known--where could we go? What should we live on?
And yet we can't stay here; there is nothing for Charles to do.""Um....He was a--what did you say his trade was?""He was a bond broker, a kind of banker.""Eh?...A kind of banker....Sho! Did he work in a bank?""Why, yes, I told you he did, in Wisconsin, where he and I used to live.""Hum....Pretty smart at it, too, seems to me you said he was?""Yes, very capable indeed."
"I want to know....Hum....Sho!"He muttered one or two more disjointed exclamations and then ceased to speak altogether, staring abstractedly at a crack in the floor.
All at once he began to hum a hymn.Mrs.Armstrong, whose nerves were close to the breaking point, lost patience.
"Good morning, Mr.Winslow," she said, and opened the door to the outer shop.This time Jed did not detain her.Instead he stared dreamily at the floor, apparently quite unconscious of her or his surroundings.
"Eh?" he drawled."Oh, yes, good mornin',--good mornin'....
Hum....
'There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Emmanuel's veins, And sinners plunged de de de de De de di dew dum de.'"His visitor closed the door.Jed still sat there gazing at vacancy and droning, dolefully.
