"Nellie says she doesn't see you from one week's end to another; that you have money and yet contribute nothing toward her support nor the support of your family." "I am willin' to go home, Judge!" said Montgomery, fingering his cap with clumsy hands.

He took a step nearer the slight figure on the hearth-rug and dropped his voice to a husky half maudlin whisper.

"He won't let me--see--I'm a nigger slave to him! I know I got a wife--I know I got a family, but he says--no! He says--'Joe, you damned old sot, you'll go home with a few drinks inside your freckled hide and begin to shoot off your mouth, and there'll be hell to pay for all of us!'" "He?
What are you saying--who won't let you go home ?" demanded the judge.
"Andy Gilmore; he's afraid my old woman will get it out of me.

I tell him I'm a married man but he says, 'No, you old soak, you stay here!'" "What has Andy Gilmore to do with whether you go home or not ?" inquired the judge.
"It's him and Marsh," said the handy-man.

"They bully me till I'm that rattled--" "Marsh--do you mean my son, Marshall ?" interrupted the judge.
"Yes, boss--" "I don't understand this!" said the judge after a moment of silence.
"Why should Mr.Gilmore or my son wish to keep you away from your wife ?" "It's just a notion of theirs," replied Montgomery with sudden drunken loyalty.