"And your father?"
"He's going to find out if our landlord will rebuild the cottage, and if so, father will get a lodging somewhere in the village. The worst of it is, all our furniture is burnt; but father says he'll be able to replace it by degrees, he hopes."
After leaving Salome, Mrs. Fowler thought she would like to see the ruined cottage, so she turned her footsteps in that direction, and found Josiah leaning over the garden gate in conversation with the Vicar. The former would have moved away on her approach, but she stopped him, and explained that she had been to visit his little daughter.
"I'm so sorry for you both," she told him kindly. "It is terrible to be burnt out of house and home."
"It was my doing," Josiah confessed. "Maybe you've heard how it happened?"
"Yes," she admitted, "you caught hold of the table-cloth, and pulled over the lamp, did you not?"
The fisherman nodded, whilst the Vicar regarded him attentively.
"I've been talking to Petherick very seriously," the latter said. "And have been trying to induce him to become a teetotaler and sign the pledge. I do earnestly entreat you, Petherick, to take warning by last night's work."
"Why won't you take the pledge?" Mrs. Fowler asked, her fair face alternately paling and flushing. "I am sure it would be for your happiness and well-being if you did. And you should consider Salome. Oh, drink is a terrible curse! It kills all one's best qualities, and ruins one's self-respect."
"I'm ashamed of myself," Josiah acknowledged, "but think how folks would laugh if I took the pledge. I'll be a teetotaler if I can; but no, I won't pledge myself to it."