William was glad of the dim light in the store. He didn't want Harold to see how bad he felt. He was used to making a dollar fifty a day.

Those factories were all the same. Everyone said they created jobs. But if you went into one, like the tobacco factory or the famous rope walk, your heart broke. William knew you did not see skilled men like him there. You saw boys and girls and women. Their faces were thin and pale. All the spirit was sweated out of them. It took a worker seven days to earn what he used to make in one day coopering.

Harold knew that. That was what made it so hard. For Harold to show him that sign meant he saw William was down and out. You felt ashamed when that happened.

William had been a cooper since he was eleven. He knew a cooper was not a king, or a politician, or a lawyer or a judge. But he had a skill. He knew how to work with all his heart and strength.

William knew he should not be too proud to work at something else. But Harold feeling sorry for him twisted in his heart.

"I don't mind working hard," he told Harold. "That's why I'm going to see if there's any snow clearing work. But I'll be damned if I'll work for a miserable dollar fifty a week. Damned if I'll perish like the poor slaves and orphans in those factories."

He smiled. "Besides, they wouldn't take me. I'm too old, and too much of a trouble maker." He left Harold cleaning a lamp at the counter. He went back out into the snow, leaving the smells of hay, twine and oakum behind him.

Near the shop stood a boarded up house. He may not have seen the house, but for a story Lettie told Iris. Now when he passed the house he remembered Lettie's story.