JIM. It was two months before I could work at all. And the rent came
due, and they turned us out . . . it was winter-time, and my wife
caught a cold, and it turned to pneumonia, and she died. That's all of
that.

MRS. AUSTIN. Go on.

JIM. And then, you see, the panic came . . . and the mills shut down .
. . sudden as that. The lawyer told me the company would see I always
had a job, but that was only to get me to sign.

MRS. AUSTIN. [Feverishly.] Did you try him?

JIM. I went to the office and tried; but they wouldn't even let me see
him.

MRS. AUSTIN. I see. And then?

JIM. Then I went out to look for work. I had the two babies, you know
. . . and God only knows how I loved those babies. I said I'd fight
and win out for their sakes. But Amy . . . she was the little one . .
. she never had been very strong. When you're a poor man, you can't
get the best food, even if you know what it is. It ain't fit milk they
sell for the children in this city; and the baby died . . . I never
knew what was the matter exactly. And there was only one left . . .
and me tramping the streets all day looking for a job. How was I to
take care of him, lady? How could I have helped it? [His voice is
breaking with emotion.] And oh, ma'am, he was the loveliest little
fellow . . . with hair like gold. And so well and strong.