All He Knew | Page 6

for fear you forget it or other
things'll put it out of your mind, an' you'll be happier while you're in
jail, an' you won't get back here again, nor in any other jail, after you've
been let out.'
"Well, that was encouragin', for I didn't want to get in no jails no more.
When the man went away he left me a little book that didn't have
nothin' in it but things Jesus Himself said. I read it lots; some of it I
didn't understand, an' I can't get it through my head yet, but what I did
get done me so much good that I found myself kind o' changin' like, an'
I've been changin' ever since. Nan, I want you to read it too, an' see if it
don't do you good. We ain't been what we ought to be; it's all my fault.
The children ain't had no show; that's all my fault too, but it'll take all
that two of us can do to catch up with 'em. I want you to be always 'side
o' me, Nan."
"We can't let 'em starve," said the wife; "an' if what you're believin' is
goin' to keep you from pickin' up a livin' for 'em when you get a chance,
what are we goin' to do?"
"I'm goin' to work," said Sam.
"Sho! You never done three days' work hand-runnin' in your life." Then
Mrs. Kimper gave a hard laugh.
"I've done it over two years now, an' I guess I can keep on, if I get the
chance. I can stick to it if you'll back me up, Nan."
"There ain't much to me nowaday," said Mrs. Kimper, after a moment
or two of blank staring as she held her chin in her hands and rested her
elbows on her knees. "Once I had an idee I was about as lively as they
make 'em, but things has knocked it out of me,--a good many kind of
things."
"I know it, poor gal," said Sam; "I know it: I feel a good deal the same
way myself sometimes; but it helps me along an' stren'thens me up, like,

to know that Him that the visitor in jail told me about didn't have no
home a good deal of the time, an' not overmuch to eat, an' yet was
cheerful like, an' always on His nerve. It braces a fellow up to think
somebody's who's been as bad off as himself has pulled through, an' not
stole nothin', nor fit with nobody, nor got drunk, but always was lookin'
out for other folks. Say, Nan, 'pears to me it's gettin' dark all of a
sudden--oh!"
The exclamation was called out by the cause of the sudden darkness,
which was no other than Deacon Quickset, who had reached the
door-way without being heard. The deacon's proportions were generous;
those of the door were not.
"Samuel," said the deacon, "you said this afternoon that you were a
changed man, and that you were leaning on a strength greater than your
own. I want to see you make a new start and a fair one; and, as there's a
prayer- and experience-meeting around at the church to-night, I thought
I'd come around and tell you that 'twould be a sensible thing to go there
and tell what the Lord's done for you. It will put you on record, and
make you some friends; and you need them, you know."
Sam was pallid by nature, more so through long confinement, but he
looked yet more pale as he stammered,--
"Me--speak--in meetin'? Before folks that--that's always b'longed to the
church?"
"You must acknowledge Him, Samuel, if you expect Him to bless
you."
"I hain't no objections to acknowledgin' Him, deacon, only--I'm not the
man to talk out much before them that I know is my betters. I ain't got
the gift o' gab. I couldn't never say much to the fellers in the saloon
along around about election-times, though I b'lieved in the party with
all my might."
"It doesn't take any gift to tell the plain truth," said the deacon. "Come
along. Mrs. Kimper, you come too, so Samuel will have no excuse to

stay home."
"Me?" gasped Mrs. Kimper. "Me?--in meetin'? Goodness, deacon, it
gives me the conniptions to think of it! Besides,"--here she dragged her
scanty clothing about her more closely,--"I ain't fit to be seen among
decent folks."
"Clothes don't count for anything in the house of the Lord," said the
deacon, stoutly, though he knew he was lying. "Meeting begins at
half-past seven, and the sun's down now."
"Nan," whispered Sam, "come along. You can slip in a back seat an'
nobody'll see nothin' but your face. Stand by me, Nan: I'm your
husband. Stand by me, so I