Jurgis was standing by the table, and he caught himself with his hands; his head sank and his arms shook⁠—it looked as if he were going to collapse. Then suddenly Aniele got up and came hobbling toward him, fumbling in her skirt pocket. She drew out a dirty rag, in one corner of which she had something tied.

“Here, Jurgis!” she said, “I have some money. Palauk! 22 See!”

She unwrapped it and counted it out⁠—thirty-four cents. “You go, now,” she said, “and try and get somebody yourself. And maybe the rest can help⁠—give him some money, you; he will pay you back some day, and it will do him good to have something to think about, even if he doesn’t succeed. When he comes back, maybe it will be over.”