"Well, if folks won't take warning, they must be let to go on in their own way," said Mrs. Raikes. "I'm thankful it isn't my husband as spends his days gambling and drinking with Simmons. But if you're content, why it's no concern of mine."
"My husband don't gamble nor drink neither—much obliged all the same," says mother, getting very red.
"Oh, as for that, it's known to all the world, and anybody you like to ask'll say the same," Mrs. Raikes answered. "But I've no wish to vex you. It isn't my business. Only Raikes, he says to me this morning, 'That fellow Simmons will fleece Murdock of every penny he has,' says he. 'Couldn't you just give his poor wife a word of warning?' says he. And I says to him, 'I don't know as I dare, for she'll be out on me like a wild cat if I say a word; but maybe I'll try.' And now I've delivered my conscience, Mrs. Murdock, and I'd best say no more; only it's true enough all I've told you, and more's the pity."
And, when Mrs. Raikes was gone, how mother did cry! I never saw her cry so before. She wasn't afraid of many things that would frighten another wife; but she had a horror and dread of gambling, for she had seen the dreadful evil of it in her girlhood with a brother of her own.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
SCENES.
THAT very evening, strange to say, father came home the worse for drink. I had never seen him so bad, except the one night after grannie's death.
Somebody brought him to the door, and pushed him in and went away. I was almost sure it was Mr. Simmons, but I could not quite see in the dark, and he did not answer when I spoke.
I had to help father along the passage, and into the parlour; for he staggered and stumbled, and could not walk steadily. It was dreadful to me to have to do this. Such a feeling of shrinking and loathing came up in my heart, that I was frightened at myself. For it was my father—the father whom I had once loved so much, and who had been so good to us all. O what a change! To put himself down lower than a brute! All this was in my mind, as he came along, clutching at me for support, with his blood-shot eyes telling their tale.
And he was my own father. Such a great agony seemed to come up in my heart, that I felt as if I must rush away, and never see him again. But mother looked so frightened, standing apart, that I could not leave her.