ey could not get along decently they would better
part! Lieders had answered not a word; he had given Lossing a queer
glance and turned on his heel. He went home and bought some poison on
the way. "The old man is gone and the young feller don't want the old
crank round, no more," he said to himself. "Thekla, I guess I make her
troubles, too; I'll git out!"

That was the beginning of his tampering with suicide. Thekla, who did
not have the same opinion of the "trouble," had interfered. He had
married Thekla to have someone to keep a warm fireside for him, but she
was an ignorant creature who never could be made to understand about
carving. He felt sorry for her when the baby died, the only child they
ever had; he was sorrier than he expected to be on his own account, too,
for it was an ugly little creature, only four days old, and very red and
wrinkled; but he never thought of confiding his own griefs or trials
to her. Now, it made him angry to have that stupid Thekla keep him in
a world where he did not wish to stay. If the next day Lossing had not
remembered how his father valued Lieders, and made an excuse to half
apologize to him, I fear Thekla's stratagems would have done little
good.

The next experience was cut out of the same piece of cloth. He had
relented, he had allowed his wife to save him; but he was angry in
secret. Then came the day when open disobedience to Lossing's orders had
snapped the last thread of Harry's patience. To Lieders's aggrieved "If
you ain't satisfied with my work, Mr. Lossing, I kin quit," the answer
had come instantly, "Very well, Lieders, I'm sorry to lose you, but we
can't have two bosses here: you can go to the desk." And when Lieders in
a blind stab of temper had growled a prophecy that Lossing would regret
it, Lossing had stabbed in turn: "Maybe, but it will be a cold day when
I ask you to come back." And he had gone off without so much as a word
of regret. The old workman had packed up his tools, the pet tools that
no one was ever permitted to touch, and crammed his arms into his coat
and walked out of the place where he had worked so long, not a man
saying a word. Lieders didn't reflect that they knew nothing of the
quarrel. He glowered at them and went away sore at heart. We make a
great mistake when we suppose that it is only the affectionate
that desire affection; sulky and ill-conditioned souls often have a
passionate longing for the very feelings that they repel. Lieders wa