"It's very selfish of him. He ought to consider you. But, there, I won't run out against him, for I know you're very fond of him. Perhaps, he'll be different some day."
"I pray every night that God will make him a sober man. He used to be so steady when mother was living. Mr. Amyatt will tell you the same. It seems so dreadful that her death should have changed him so. It was the trouble, I suppose, and having no one to speak to at home but me that drove him to the 'Crab and Cockle' first along; then he grew to like the drink, and now he can't bear the thought of going without it. Did you know Mr. Fowler spoke to father about it, miss?"
"No; did he?"
"Yes, he did indeed. They had an argument, and I fancy from father's manner that he was impressed by what Mr. Fowler said."
Long the little girls talked, until Margaret declared she really must go, or she would be late for dinner. She hurried back to Greystone, to find that her mother was not up yet. On the landing, at the top of the stairs, she met Ross, who had that minute come from Mrs. Fowler's bedroom door.
"Is mother's head no better?" Margaret inquired concernedly.
"I'm afraid not," Ross answered. She looked somewhat perturbed, the little girl thought. "I've not seen the mistress since breakfast-time, miss," she proceeded hurriedly, "for she said she wished to be undisturbed, and now she has locked her door."
"Locked her door!" Margaret echoed in utter astonishment.
"Yes, and she won't open it, miss. I was going to ask Miss Conway what I should do—"
Not waiting to hear the conclusion of the sentence, Margaret ran to her mother's bedroom door and tried to open it. The handle turned, but the door remained closed. She rapped sharply with her knuckles and listened; then, receiving no answer, knocked again.