I do my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not have broken her heart like those few words.

She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears, "Oh, John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy.

I didn't mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!" He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach, but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again.

She had promised to love him for better or worse, and then she, his wife, had reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly.

It was dreadful, and the worst of it was John went on so quietly afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to sleep.