Tom had risen to her feet, her face expressing the deepest
sympathy for the woman, though she was at a loss to understand the
cause of her visitor's distress.
"Is yer man fired?" she asked.
"No, an' wouldn't be if they'd let him alone. He's sober an'
steady, an' never tastes a drop, and brings his money home to me
every Saturday night, and always done; an' now they"--
"Well, what's the matter, then?" Tom could not stand much beating
about the bush.
"Why, don't ye know they've give notice?" she said in
astonishment; then, as a misgiving entered her mind, "Maybe I'm
wrong; but me man an' all of 'em tells me ye're a-buckin' ag'in'
Mr. McGaw, an' that ye has the haulin' job at the brewery."
"No," said Tom, with emphasis, "ye're not wrong; ye're dead right.
But who's give notice?"
"The committee's give notice, an' the boss at the brewery says
he'll give ye the job if he has to shut up the brewery; an' the
committee's decided to-day that if he does they'll call out the
men. My man is a member, and so I come over"--And she rested her
head wearily against the door, the tears streaming down her face.
Tom looked at her wonderingly, and then, putting her strong arms
about her, half carried her across the kitchen to a chair by the
stove. Mrs. Todd leaned against the table, watching the sobbing
woman.
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