Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1884-06-13
THE DARK HOUR.

lame cobbier, dropping his head upon his
hands and looking, as he felt, the per-
Sonifcation of despair 'Ive offended
the Lord somehow, and He won't let me
have chance to keep home over our
heads. / know I'm not all | ought to
be, and I'm punished
Becky went across the room and pat
ted her husband on the back
'sNow, don't take on. Nick. don't, she
said. THAT can't be. for He as knows
all, knows how good you are. Better
times'll come. They are sure to, and
you will be rewarded for all your patience
yet. The darkest hour is just before
day."
The cobbler shook his head.
eve given up hope, Becky" he said.
''What with the rent and the bill for
Medicine 1t was like me to get sick
just at the worst, and no work coming
in; and the new shop with the gilt sign
tempting folks from our shabby base
ment even for the mending of their old
shoes. I'm crushed down. Why, you
are as thin and white as ghost
You haven't tasted meat this week,
Becky"
"Nom have you. said Becky" But
Ia, why there is folks thinks meat is I'M
hulsome. Wcgetarians, Nick, they call em.
Where lived out once saw one.
s'Did he say bread was unhulsome,
too?n asked Nick ''Oh, gal, | wish I'd
left We living out at service, rosy and
happy; but meant to do better, / did. If
| was an able-bodied man, I'd work some
how or somewhere; but it's the last or
nothing with me. Becky, why didn't
you take Tim Rolf, the wheelwright, and
send the little limping cobbler about his
businessW
81 don't like Tim, :" said Becky, "and
I just knew how nice and cosy we'd be
together Never quarrel, Nick. And
how we used to go to Hoboken and have
lemonade in the garden, and come home
after dark afternoon, and how we used
to go to church Sunday morning in clothes
as good as any ones"
used, T" sighed poor Nick.
"WLy, it can't be all uphill" said
Becky. 81 haven't time to go out galli-
wanting now, but la, don't miss it.
We're steady married folks, now, you
know"
''Oh, Becky, said the cobbler, s'you
try to keep up heart, but you know it's
come to starving"
They looked at each other, and then
Becky put her arms about her husband
She did not weep upon his bosom; she
was so big and strong and he so small
and frail, that it only seemed natural to
reverse matters. She Rugged him up TO
her shoulder, and covered his head over
with her apron and put her cheek down
outside the bundle thus made, and
suothed and patted him as if he had been
baby. But she cried, too, and the
apron was wet through in no time.
1t was a bad state of things. No
money, no food, no fire, and winter at its
coolest. The chi dren sent to school
breakfastless for the sake of the warmth
and comfort of the school-house. No
work to be had; the little cobbler as
helpless as man could we'll be, except at
| his trade, and Becky's washing stopped
for heaven only knew how long by a
great felon in the palm of her right hand.
But Becky loved the queer little mortal
she had married; so well, that she stopped
crying first, and picked up his head and
! patted it, and kissing him between the
eyes-great, frightened. light blue eyes,
that seemed made for crying.
'sYou stay at home and mind the
place, she said .srm going out awhile.
Perhaps therell be bit of luck-who
knowsg'
l She put on her bonnet and shawl
such o thin little shawl-which had been
used for an ironing cloth. and had an
iron shaped scorch between the should.
ers-and took up basket.
/ The cobbler looked at her.
Becky, he said, hoarsely; Becky.
She knew just what he meant