He was utterly worn out by all he had been through during the long day,
and he fell asleep in his chair towards morning, his head on his breast,
his feet struck out straight before him, one arm hanging down beside him
and his other hand thrust into his pocket. He looked more like a shabby
lay figure stuffed with sawdust than like a living man. If Newton had
come down and found him lying there under the lamplight he would have
started back and shuddered, and waited a while before he could find
courage to come nearer.

But the man was only very sound asleep, and he did not wake till the
December dawn gleamed through the clear winter's sky and made the
artificial light look dim and smoky; and when he opened his eyes it was
he himself who started to find himself there in the cold before his
great failure, in broad daylight.

Nevertheless, he had slept soundly, and felt better able to face all the
trouble that was in store for him. He stirred the embers in the stove,
put in some kindling and a supply of coal, and warmed himself, still
heavy with sleep, and glad to waken consciously, by degrees, and to feel
that his resolution was not going to break down.

When he felt quite himself he left the room and went upstairs
cautiously, lest he should wake the boy, though it was really time to
get up, and Newton was already dressing.

"I'll walk into town with you," said Overholt when they were at
breakfast in the parlour. "It will do me good to get some air, and I
must see about selling those things. There's no time to be lost."

Newton swallowed his hominy and bread and butter and milk, and reflected