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“Well, to go back to that girl. She is married and don’t live here, and you ain’t like ever to see her, but she was a beauty and something more. I don’t suppose she ever looked twice at me, but losing what you’ve never had sometimes is worse than losing everything you’ve got. When she got married I guess I knew a little about what the martyrs went through.

“Just after that George’s widow got married again and went away to live. It took a burden off the rest of us, but I had got attached to the children. The little girl, Ellen, seemed ‘most like my own. Then poor Myrtle came here to live. She did dressmaking and boarded with our folks, and I begun to see that she was one of the nervous sort of women who are pretty bad off alone in the world, and I told her about the other girl, and she said she didn’t mind, and we got married. By that time mother’s brother John — he had never got married — died and left her a little money, so she and my sister Abby could screw along. They bought the little house they live in and left the farm, for Abby was always hard to get along with, though she is a good woman. Mother, though she is a smart woman, is one of the sort who don’t feel called upon to interfere much with men-folks. I guess she didn’t interfere any too much for my good, or father’s, either. Father was a set man. I guess if mother had been a little harsh with me I might not have asked that awful ‘why?’ I guess I might have taken my bitter pills and held my tongue, but I won’t blame myself on poor mother.

“Myrtle and I get on well enough. She seems contented — she has never said a word to make me think she wasn’t. She isn’t one of the kind of women who want much besides decent treatment and a home. Myrtle is a good woman. I am sorry for her that she got married to me, for she deserved somebody who could make her a better husband. All the time, every waking minute, I’ve been growing more and more rebellious.

“You see, Mr. Wheaton, never in this world have I had what I wanted, and more than wanted — needed, and needed far more than happiness. I have never been able to think of work as anything but a way to get money, and it wasn’t right, not for a man like me, with the feelings I was born with. And everything has gone wrong even about the work for the money. I have been hampered and hindered, I don’t know whether by Providence or the Evil One. I have saved just six hundred and forty dollars, and I have only paid the interest on the mortgage. I knew I ought to have a little ahead in case Myrtle or I got sick, so I haven’t tried to pay the mortgage, but put a few dollars at a time in the savings-bank, which will come in handy now.”

The minister regarded him uneasily. “What,” he asked, “do you mean to do?”

“I mean,” replied Christopher, “to stop trying to do what I am hindered in doing, and do just once in my life what I want to do. Myrtle asked me this morning if I wasn’t going to plow the south field. Well, I ain’t going to plow the south field. I ain’t going to make a garden. I ain’t going to try for hay in the ten-acre lot. I have stopped. I have worked for nothing except just enough to keep soul and body together. I have had bad luck. But that isn’t the real reason why I have stopped. Look at here, Mr. Wheaton, spring is coming. I have never in my life had a chance at the spring nor the summer. This year I’m going to have the spring and the summer, and the fall, too, if I want it. My apples may fall and rot if they want to. I am going to get as much good of the season as they do.”