The following day Mrs. Fowler did not go far. She appeared depressed and out of sorts until after tea-time, when her drooping spirits revived, and she spent the evening under the lilac tree with Miss Conway, whilst the children played croquet on the lawn. Suddenly she remembered that a letter she had written to her husband had not been posted, and suggested that Margaret and Gerald might take it to the post-office.
"I'm afraid it's too late to catch to-night's post," she said regretfully, "but never mind. Your father will not be anxious, as he heard this morning. Still, you may as well post it. Dear me, what could have made me so forgetful!"
So Margaret and Gerald hurried off to the post-office, which was only two doors from the village inn, from which it was divided by Samuel Moyle's shop.
After posting the letter, they went into the shop to purchase some sweets, and whilst they were there, Josiah Petherick came out of the "Crab and Cockle," much the worse for drink, and staggered past on his way home.
Mrs. Moyle, a rosy-cheeked dame, so stout that she appeared to be almost as thick as she was long, went to the door to stare after Josiah, whilst her husband, who was attending to the requirements of his customers, shook his head gravely and prophesied that "such a drunken beast," as he called him, "would come to a bad end," adding, with a touch of real feeling, "Ah, I'm sorry for that poor motherless maid of his!"
Margaret returned to Greystone very sad at heart, full of the lame girl's trouble, and informed her mother and Miss Conway of the state Josiah was in; whilst Gerald, who had been more amused than disgusted, began to imitate the drunken man's rambling walk, a proceeding which his governess promptly put a stop to by grasping him forcibly by the shoulder and making him stand still.
"For shame!" she cried with unusual severity in her tone. "How can you make fun of the unhappy man? Poor wretch! Never make a joke of a drunkard again."
"Well, I won't," Gerald returned. "I meant no harm. Please let me go, Miss Conway. I promise you I won't do it again."
"No, I do not think you meant any harm," the governess admitted. "You acted thoughtlessly, I know. But you must never laugh at what is wrong—remember that."
"Isn't it terrible for poor Salome, mother?" Margaret said sadly.