"When drink once gets hold of people, it makes them slaves, and kills their finest feelings. I am very sorry for that poor Salome!"
"So am I. She is so brave, too, and sticks up for her father all she can. Oh, I think he ought to give up the drink for her sake. I wonder—I wonder if it would be any good for you to speak to him!" And Margaret looked wistfully and pleadingly into her father's face.
"I will consider the matter," he rejoined thoughtfully.
"Oh, father!" she cried, picturing afresh Salome's grief and humiliation, "What should I do, if I had such a trouble as that poor lame girl has to bear?"
Mr. Fowler started, and a look of intense pain and trouble momentarily crossed his countenance, but he answered quietly, "In that case, I hope you would ask God to support and comfort you."
"As Salome does. I could not be patient like she is, though."
"I trust you would, my dear child."
"Well, I am not likely to be tried," and Margaret regarded her father with a look of affectionate pride. She wondered at the sadness of the smile with which he returned her glance; and his answer, gravely spoken, puzzled her not a little.
"We cannot tell how much our patience and our love may be tried," he said, "nor what trials the future may hold for us. We can only pray that God will help and strengthen us in our time of need."