It was the iron bridge which Mrs. Montgomery, escorted by the daring Shrimplin, had crossed that fateful night of her interview with Judge Langham, and it was toward it that her glance was turned for many days after in the hope that she might see Joe’s bulk of bone and muscle as he slouched in the direction of the home and family he had so wanted only forsaken.  But a veil of mystery obscured every fact that bore on the handy-man’s disappearance; no eye penetrated it, no hand lifted it.

Soon after Montgomery’s disappearance his deserted wife fell upon evil times indeed.  In spite of her bravest efforts the rent fell hopelessly in arrears.  For a time her pride kept her away from the Shrimplins, who might have helped her.  To go to the little lamplighter’s was to hear bitter truths about her husband; Mr. Shrimplin’s denunciations were especially fierce and scathing, for here he felt that righteousness was all on his side and that in abusing the absconding Joe he was performing a moral act.

But at last Nellie’s fortunes reached a crisis.  An obdurate landlord set her few poor belongings in the gutter.  Even in the most prosperous days their roof-tree had flourished but precariously and now it was down and level with the dust; seeing which Mrs. Montgomery placed her youngest in the ancient vehicle which had trundled all that generation of Montgomerys, drew her apron before her eyes and wept.  But quickly rallying to the need for immediate action she swallowed her pride and sent Arthur in quest of his uncle, who was well fitted by sobriety, industry and thrift, to cope with such a crisis.

Mr. Shrimplin’s only weaknesses were such as spring from an eager childlike vanity, and a nature as shy as a fawn’s of whatever held even a suggestion of danger.  To Custer he could brag of crimes he had never committed, but an unpaid butcher’s bill would have robbed him of his sleep; also he wore a very tender heart in his narrow chest, though he did his best to hide it by assuming a bold and hardy air and by garnishing his conversation with what he counted the very flower of a brutal worldly cynicism.

Thus it was that when Arthur had found his uncle and had stated his case, Mr. Shrimplin instantly summoned to his aid all his redoubtable powers of speech and fell to cursing the recreant husband and father.  Having eased himself in this manner, and not wishing Arthur to be entirely unmindful of his vast superiority, he called the boy’s attention to the undeniable fact that he, Shrimplin, could have been kicked out of doors and Joe Montgomery would not have lifted a hand to save him.  Yet all this while the little lamplighter, with the boy at his heels, was moving rapidly across the flats.