u mean to
say that you took contracts, planned and built houses?" "Oh, yes,"
replied the colored man. "I never saw a colored architect. Say, George!"
to a man who had just entered, "here's a colored architect and
house-builder from the South." "Architect and builder?" queried the
other, drawing nigh. "Well, Mr.--what is your name?" "William--William
Sikes." "Mr. Sikes, are you looking for work at your trade in the North?
The Trades Union and so forth make it pretty hard for a colored man to
get in here; and then you can't work, you are lame." "I am a little
lame," replied Bill, looking down at his palsied arm. "I had a paralytic
stroke some time er go. I am goin' in for treatment, an' if I git well,
I won't ask Trade Union an' labor unions no boot. Where there's er will
there's er way." "But I am afraid you will never recover sufficient
strength to work again at your trade, my man," answered Mr. Lewis,
tenderly; "but you can try." "Good day," said Bill, rising to go. "Good
day," said Mr. Lewis.

But Mrs. Sikes, still vigorous and strong, found in New York abundant
opportunities for women to be useful. There was day's work, general
house work, chamber work and cooking situations to be had without very
much effort on the part of the seeker. Mrs. Sikes, whose work had
chiefly been dressmaking and plain sewing, found the new field of labor
quite irksome. The money realized from the sale of her property she must
not let dwindle away too swiftly; her husband was helpless, and she must
work, and the children must work. She found the North a place where a
day's work meant a day's work in full; there was no let up; the pound of
flesh was exacted. So she often tugged home to her apartments very tired
and discouraged.

They had been in New York quite a year, and Mrs. Sikes had quite gotten
used to Northern ways (everything seeming easier accomplished), when one
evening at the dinner table she noticed that her husband watched her
more than usual. "What's the matter, William?" she asked, tenderly. "I'm
awful discouraged," he said. "I--I don't get any better, an' hate ter
see you an' children strugglin' so hard an' I can't help." "Now, don't
worry about that, William; it will do no good." "I was thinkin'," he
went on, "that we might try it again in Wil--" "Now, don't mention
Wilmington to me again, William!" broke in Mrs Sikes, sharply. "If you
wish to go back to that hell, I'll put you on the train and you can go;
but I, never! Li