Himself's been sixteen years now in the
picker, first he was one of six and now he is one of the four since
you got the new machines, yourself knows it well."
The agent knew about Mike; he looked compassionate as he shook his
head. "Stay where you are, for a while at any rate. Things may look a
little better, it seems to me. We will start up as soon as anyone
does. I'll allow you twenty dollars a month after this; here are ten
to start with. No, no, I've got no one depending on me and my pay is
going on. I'm glad to share it with my friends. Tell the folks to come
up and see me, Ahern and Sullivan and Michel and your brother Con;
tell anybody you know who is really in distress. You've all stood by
me!"
"'Tis all the lazy ones 'ould be coming if we told on the poor boy,"
said Ellen gratefully, as they hurried home. "Ain't he got the good
heart? We'd ought to be very discrate, Mike!" and Mike agreed by a
most impatient gesture, but by the time summer had begun to wane the
agent was a far poorer man than when it had begun. Mike and Ellen
Carroll were only the leaders of a sorrowful procession that sought
his door evening after evening. Some asked for help who might have
done without it, but others were saved from actual want. There were a
few men who got work among the farms, but there was little steady
work. The agent made the most of odd jobs about the mill yards and
contrived somehow or other to give almost every household a lift. The
village looked more and more dull and forlorn, but in August, when a
traveling show ventured to give a performance in Farley, the
Corporation hall was filled as it seldom was filled in prosperous
times.
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