His Friend by Pansy

AH! It is pitiful-a woman knocking at iron doors and tugging with feeble fingers at heavy bars, watching eagerly if perchance the great gates may open never so little and let them into a niche-to work for bread. It is not the laborers, at their posts from sun to sun, who need our sympathy, after all. It is the long line of discouraged men and women who cannot get the work to do, who do what is harder than work-wait.

One morning in November, business took Mr. Thornton to one of the banks of the city. While he stood waiting for his account to be balanced, he heard a low, clear voice not far from him that thrilled and interested him at once, because there was trouble in the tones. One needed only to be in misfortune to possess strong attractions for Mr. Thornton.