chance to catch this one. An' he waits an' waits, an' goes up in
elevators an' stands on one leg in lobbies, till he's broke' down an'
sick of it, an' has to go home to England steerage."

Little Ann looked up from her sewing. He had been walking furiously
for half an hour, and had been tired to begin with. She had heard his
voice break roughly as he said the last words. He threw himself
astride a chair and, crossing his arms on the back of it, dropped his
head on them. Her mother never allowed this. Her idea was that women
were made to tide over such moments for the weaker sex. Far had it
been from the mind of Mrs. Hutchinson to call it weaker. "But there's
times, Ann, when just for a bit they're just like children. They need
comforting without being let to know they are being comforted. You
know how it is when your back aches, and some one just slips a pillow
under it in the right place without saying anything. That's what women
can do if they've got heads. It needs a head."

Little Ann got up and went to the chair. She began to run her fingers
caressingly through the thick, grizzled hair.

"There, Father, love, there!" she said. "We are going back to England,
at any rate, aren't we? And grandmother will be so glad to have us
with her in her cottage. And America's only one place."

"I tried it first, dang it!" jerked out Hutchinson. "Every one told me
to do it." He quoted again with derisive scorn: "'You go to 'Merica.
'Merica's the place for a chap like you. 'Merica's the place for
inventions.' Liars!"

Little Ann went on rubbing the grizzled head lovingly.