"Oh! sad is the night-time,
The night-time of sorrow,
When through the deep gloom, we catch but the boom
Of the waves that may whelm us to-morrow."
Job found Mrs. Wilson pacing about in a restless way; not speaking to the woman at whose house she was staying, but occasionally heaving such deep oppressive sighs as quite startled those around her.
"Well!" said she, turning sharp round in her tottering walk up and down as Job came in.
"Well, speak!" repeated she, before he could make up his mind what to say; for, to tell the truth, he was studying for some kind- hearted lie which might soothe her for a time. But now the real state of the case came blurting forth in answer to her impatient questioning.
"Will's not to the fore. But he'll maybe turn up yet, time enough."
She looked at hi
