The Shoulders of Atlas

llows the green assumed a violet tinge-sometimes from violets themselves, sometimes from the shadows. The trees already showed shadows as of a multitude o

here was nothing else in store for him until he was turned out because of old age. Then the future looked like a lurid sunset of misery. He earned reasonably good wages for a man of his years, but prices were so high that he was not able to save a cen

t had turned a gray-black, the gutters had been out of order. He had not quite settled the bill for these repairs. He realized it always as an actual physical incubus upon his slender, bowed shoulders. He came of a race who were

The small sum which he had lost had come to assume colossal proportions in his mind. He used, in his bitterest moments, to reckon up on a scrap of paper what it might have amounted to, if it had been put out at interest, by this time. He always came out a rich

a delicate woman, and Henry knew that she worked beyond her strength, and the knowledge filled him with impotent fury. Since the union had come into play he did not have to work so many hours in the shop, and he got the

didn't know but he worked harder than he had done when the shop time was longer. However, he had been one of the first to go, heart and soul, with the union, and he had paid his dues ungrudgingly, even with a fierce satisfaction, as if in some way the transaction made him eve

yrannizing over the whole highway, frightening the poor old country horses, and endangering the lives of all before them. Henry read with

she would say, and he would retort stubbornly that he didn't care; that he had to pay a road tax for these people who would just as soon run him down as

d, which, although it had a bitter taste in his mouth, filled him with the satisfaction of triumph. He loved Horace like a son, although he realized that the young man properly belonged to the class which he hated, and that, too, although he was manifestly poor and obliged to work for his living. Henr

ut those fellers from Alford who come over here don't have to work, and as for Guy Lawson, the boss's son, he's a fool! He couldn't earn his bread an

for somebody to whom he could pour out his heart. Sylvia was no satisfaction at such a time. If she echoed him for a while, when she was more than usually worn with her

bbler's-shop, or what had formerly been a cobbler's-shop, for an ell. Besides that, there were three rooms on the ground-floor-the kitchen, the sitting-room, and a little bedroom which Henry and Sylvia occupied. Sylvia had cooking-stoves in both the old

ssibly Horace might have returned before his vacation was over and Sylvia were setting the table in the other room in his honor. He opened the door which led di

s, and he acted tickled to death. He doesn't get a decent thing to eat once in a dog's ag

word, yet he was much better than Sylvia as a safety-valve for pessimism. Meeks was as pessimistic in his way as Henry, although he handled his pessimism, as he did e

r can well be. He lived by himself; he had never married; and the world,

e lawyer was. Sidney Meeks did not rise. He extended one large, white hand affably. "How are you Henry?" said he, giving the other man's lean, brown finge

e you," ret

, now the days are getting so long," s

nough, but I don't

me of your day and generation," said he. "Less

his thin, intelligent face. "Why not? Look at the money that's spent all around us on

pper, Henry," he said, as Sylvia's thin,

hing, as he settled down heavily into his chair. He was a large man. "Flapjacks are compensations. Let us eat our compensations and be thankful. That's my way of saying grace. You ought alw

grace for," said Henry, w

ry!" sai

with plenty of butter and sugar and nutmeg,

ound, regulated by the beef trust, would be more

t her husband was enjoying himself after his own peculiar fashion, and that, if he spoke t

will change your mind about having something

a little nervously. Something in the lawyer's manner agitated her. She was not

you can give me any good reason for saying grace y

ry!" sai

t, and things I have got that other folks haven't, and for forgiveness for breaking commandments, when, so far a

hair on the sides of his head and none on top. He had good, placid features, and an easy expression. He ate two

ravagance. There was a really beautiful old mahogany table with carved base, of which neither Henry nor Sylvia thought much. Sylvia meditated selling enough Calkin's soap to buy a new one, and stow that away in Mr. Allen's room. Mr. Allen professed great admiration for it, to her wonderment. There was also a fine, old, gold-framed mirror, and some china vases on the mantel-shelf. Sylvia was rat

appreciation as he sat in the sitting-roo

s house, when he was a boy, and he was not as confident about that as he was

said. "She's crazy to have one of ca

ing that so much virtue and real fineness of character can ex

ke to see the same old things around all the time, and I don't know as I blame her. The world has grown

hing you see in a b

ssion furniture, myself, pretty wel

st thing in all creation," said Meeks. "Sylvia is a foolish woman if she pa

. Mr. Allen will like it in his room

. "There's carving for you; t

me in rubbing her moist hands. "Now, that new Flemish

Meeks. "Now, Sylvia, sit down. I ha

oked at him and waited. Both were slightly pale. Sylvia was a delicate little woman, and Henry was large-fr

r to its utmost intensity before he spoke. "I had something to tell you wh

silence. Henry's and Sylvia's

ying himself immensely. "What relatio

Her mother was Sylvia's mother's

make a coup. He had an instinct for climaxes. "Abr

k?" sai

him. "A shoc

ht you hadn't

n't seen a soul before you came in." She rose. "Who's

Miss Babcock is there. She happened to be out

xiously. "I must go over there, anyway, this ev

ry here can eat flapjacks like those you make, Sylvia, and not say grace, his state of mind is dangerous. I am going to te