The night after Mr. Corbett had attended the Salvation Army meeting, his “upstairs” room was as dark inside as it always appeared to be on the outside.  Two anxious ones, whose money was troubling them, had to be turned away disappointed.  Mr. Corbett had left word downstairs that he was going out.

After Mr. Corbett had explained the situation to the Salvation Army captain, the captain took a day to consider.  Then Mrs. Murphy, mother of Maggie Murphy who sold War Crys, was consulted.  Mrs. Murphy had long been a soldier in the Army, and she had seen so many brands plucked from the burning that she was not disposed to discourage Mr. Corbett in his new desire to “do diff’rent.”

Soon after this Mr. Corbett, in his own words, “pulled his freight” from the Brunswick Hotel, where he had been a long, steady boarder, and installed himself in the only vacant room in the Murphy house, having read the black and white card in the parlor window, which proclaimed “Furnished Rooms and Table Board,” and regarding it as a providential opportunity for him to see Maggie Murphy in action!

Having watched Maggie Murphy wait on table in the daytime and sell War Crys at night for a week or more, Mr. Corbett decided he liked her methods.  The way she poised a tray of teacups on her head proclaimed her a true artist.

At the end of two weeks Mr. Corbett stated his case to Mrs. Murphy and Maggie.

“I’ve a poor hand,” he declared; “but I am willing to play it out if Maggie will sit opposite me and be my partner.  I have only one gift—­ I’m handy with cards and I can deal myself three out of the four aces—­ but that’s not much good to a man who tries to earn an honest living.  I am willing to try work—­it may be all right for anything I know.  If Maggie will take me I’ll promise to leave cards alone, and I’ll do whatever she thinks I ought to do.”

Maggie and her mother took a few days to consider.  On one point their minds were very clear.  If Maggie “took” him, he could not keep any of the money he had won gambling—­he would have to start honest.  Mr. Corbett had, fortunately, arrived at the same conclusion himself, so that point was easily disposed of.

“It ain’t for us to be hard on anyone that’s tryin’ to do better,” said Maggie’s mother, as she rolled out the crust for the dried-apple pies.  “He’s wasted his substance, and wasted his days, but who knows but the Lord can use him yet to His honor and glory.  The Lord ain’t like us, havin’ to wait until He gets everything to His own likin’, but He can go ahead with whatever comes to His hand.  He can do His work with poor tools, and it’s well for Him He can, and well for us, too.”

Maggie Murphy and John Corbett were married.

John Corbett got a job at once as teamster for a transfer company, and Maggie followed her mother’s example and put a sign of “Table Board” in the window.  They lived in this way for ten years, and in spite of the dismal prognostications of friends, John Corbett worked industriously, and did not show any desire to return to his old ways!  When he said he would do what Maggie told him it was not the rash promise of an eager lover, for Mr. Corbett was never rash, and the subsequent years showed that his purpose was honest to fulfil it to the letter.