"But that was two years ago," said Marjorie; "and you say that you are well now, and that you understand horses. Why don't you work now?"
The man looked at her dismally. "Oh, no, I couldn't bear to touch horses. I had such beautiful ones, but they are all gone. No, it is no use;—and I don't know what I am going to do; for my money is almost gone and I have such a terrible fear of coming to want."
"But have you tried working?" asked Marjorie.
"Yes, I took a position with a man back there," and he motioned down the road; "but he didn't sympathize with my condition and my sorrow over having been useless in a time of need. He was a very hard man, and I couldn't stand it, and so I left him. And then I took another position where the people didn't understand a bit better; and were cruel in their speech, besides. Oh, it was a grueling experience!"
Marjorie sat still and thought. "And you don't feel that you can work?"
"Of course I could work if people would only understand. It is because they don't understand, that makes it so hard."
"Don't understand what?"
"Why, they don't understand how I feel about not having done my share, while all the others were saving lives and property."
