A few moments brought him to the door, and he went in with the quick step that had marked his entrance for several days.  It was not quite dark, and his wife sat sewing by the window.  She was finishing a pair of pantaloons that had to go home that very evening, and with the money she was to get for them she expected to buy the Sunday dinner.  There was barely enough food in the house for supper; and unless she received her pay for this piece of work, she had no means of getting the required sustenance for herself and children—­or rather, for her husband, herself and children.  The individual for whom it was intended was not a prompt pay-master, and usually grumbled whenever Mrs. Jarvis asked him for money.  To add to the circumstances of concern and trouble of mind, she felt almost ready to give up, from the excessive pain in her breast, and the weakness of her whole frame.  As her husband came in, she turned upon him an anxious and troubled countenance; and then bent down over her work and plied her needle hurriedly.  As the twilight fell dimly around, she drew nearer and nearer to the window, and at last stood up, and leaned close up to the panes of glass, so that her hand almost touched them, in order to catch the few feeble rays of light that were still visible.  But she could not finish the garment upon which she wrought, by the light of day.  A candle was now lit, and she took her place by the table, not so much as glancing towards her husband, who had seated himself in a chair, with his youngest child on his knee.  Half an hour passed in silence, and then Mrs. Jarvis rose up, having taken the last stitch in the garment she was making, and passed into the adjoining chamber.  In a few minutes she came out, with her bonnet and shawl on, and the pair of pantaloons that she had just finished on her arm.

“Where are you going, Jane?” her husband asked, in a tone of surprise, that seemed mingled with disappointment.

“I am going to carry home my work.”

“But I wouldn’t go now, Jane.  Wait until after supper.”

“No, John.  I cannot wait until after supper.  The work will be wanted.  It should have been home two hours ago.”

And she glided from the room.

A walk of a few minutes brought her to the door of a tailor’s-shop, around the front of which hung sundry garments exposed for sale.  This shop she entered, and presented the pair of pantaloons to a man who stood behind the counter.  His face relaxed not a muscle as he took them and made a careful examination of the work.

“They’ll do,” he at length said, tossing them aside, and resuming his employment of cutting out a garment.

Poor Mrs. Jarvis paused, dreading to utter her request.  But necessity conquered the painful reluctance, and she said—­

“Can you pay me for this pair to-night, Mr. Willets?”

“No.  I’ve got more money to pay on Monday than I know where to get, and cannot let a cent go out.”