One man at last found words to say, "Why, he's tryin' to help hisself along, and we're watchin' to see how he'll succeed.

Now, I was along by his place this mornin', an' seen him carryin' in the last wood from his wood-pile.

'Sam,' I hollered, 'don't you want to buy a load of wood?
I've got some I want to sell.' 'I need it,' said Sam, 'but I ain't got a cent.' Well, mebbe I'd have trusted him for a load if he'd asked me, but it occurred to me to stand off an' see how he'd manage it.

It's cold weather now, an' if he don't get it some way, his family'll go cold.

I went by there again at noon-time, but he hadn't got none yit." "He's as independent like," said another, "as if he hadn't never been in jail." "You're a pack of heartless hogs!" roared the farmer, getting into his wagon and driving off.
"Can't see that he's any different from the rest of us," muttered one of the by-standers.
Could the group have known the trouble in the new cobbler's heart, as he bent all day over his work and thought of the needed wood, their interest in the subject would have been enhanced.