and you'll have to have the money for some new ones, of course. By
George! It does beat all how I keep forgetting about that bank!"

"I know, William, I'm sorry," stammered the old man miserably.

"Oh, I can let you have it all right, father, and glad to," assured
William, still frowning. "It's only that just at this time I'm a little
short, and--" He stopped abruptly and thrust his hands into his pockets.
"Hm-m," he vouchsafed after a minute. "Well, I'll tell you what--I
haven't got any now, but in a day or two I'll take you over to the
village and see what Skinner's got that will fit you. Oh, we'll have
some shoes, father, never fear!" he laughed. "You don't suppose I'm
going to let my father go barefoot!--eh?" And he laughed again.

Things wore out that winter in the most unaccountable fashion--at least
those belonging to Jeremiah and Hester did, especially undergarments.
One by one they came to mending, and one by one Hester mended them,
patch upon patch, until sometimes there was left scarcely a thread of
the original garment. Once she asked William for money to buy new ones,
but it happened that William was again short, and though the money she
had asked for came later, Hester did not make that same request again.

There were two things that Hester could not patch very successfully--her
shoes. She fried to patch them to be sure, but the coarse thread knotted
in her shaking old hands, and the bits of leather--cut from still older
shoes--slipped about and left her poor old thumb exposed to the sharp
prick of the needle, so that she finally gave it up in despair. She
tucked her feet still farther under her chair these days when Jeremiah
was near, and she pieced down two of her dress skirts so that they might
touch the floor all round. In spite of all this, however, Jeremiah saw,