'Don't bother about me!' was the reply to her sympathetic question.
'You've got your own upsets to think of. You might have come to
speak to me before this--but never mind. It's nothing to you.'
It needed much coaxing to persuade her to detail Sam's enormities,
but she found much relief when she had done so, and wept more
copiously than ever.
'It's nearly twelve o'clock, and there's no sign of him, Perhaps he
won't come at all. He's in bad company, and if he stays away all
night I'll never speak to him again as long as I live. Oh, he's a
beast of a husband, is Sam!'
Sam came not. All through that night did Jane keep her friend
company, for Sam came not. In the morning a letter, addressed in his
well-known commercial hand. Bessie read it and screamed. Sam wrote
to her that he had accepted a position as country traveller, and
_perhaps_ he might be able to look in at his home on that day month.
Jane could not go to work. The case had become very serious indeed;
Bessie was in hysterics; the four children made the roof ring with
their lamentations. At this juncture Jane put forth all her
beneficent energy. It happened that Bessie was just now servantless.
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