"How did it happen?" Margaret asked concernedly, noticing the tears had sprung into her companion's brown eyes.
"Father did it."
"Oh! Not on purpose?"
"No, no! He—he fell over it. He was sorry—afterwards; but I'm so grieved, because mother planted that rose-bush herself not long before she died, and now it is quite ruined."
"Oh, I am sorry!" Margaret cried.
"It was an accident; but—but it wouldn't have happened, if he'd been sober. He's as upset about it as I am now—he is indeed. He valued that rose-bush for mother's sake."
"Salome, why don't you try to persuade your father to take the pledge?" Margaret inquired very seriously.
"I've tried heaps and heaps of times."
"And he won't?"
"No. Father says he hates teetotalers. I can't think he does really, though. Only, he likes drink, and he won't give it up."