His lot, he knew, was hard. He could not
afford to "flit," even though he did find work somewhere else. His six
children depended upon his readiness to swallow insult and injustice,
and he could see no way but to submit. If only his first boy were ready
for work, it would soon make a difference in the house. It was only a
few months now till that time would come, and perhaps things might
change.
All day he was sullen and angry, and he tore at his work like some
imprisoned fiend, a great rebellion in his heart, and a fury of anger
consuming him. Everything seemed to go wrong that day, and at last when
"knock-off" time came, he felt a little easier, though still silent and
angry. His last shot, however, missed fire, just as he was coming away
home; and that, added to all the other things that day, made him feel
that his whole life was clouded, and was one long trial.
On the way home from the pit he heard the story of Robert's rebellious
outburst at school, and when he came into the house his wife saw by his
face that something had upset him. She proceeded to get him water to
wash himself, and brought in the tub, while he divested himself of his
clothes, flinging each garment savagely into the corner, until he stood
naked save for his trousers.
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