"So many people are teetotalers nowadays," she remarked pleasantly to Mr. Fowler on one occasion when she had been several days beneath his roof, "so really you are quite in the fashion."
"I wish I could think that," he replied, with rather a sad smile.
"Oh, one meets a great many people who are total abstainers!" she assured him. "Why, Miss Conway tells me she has always been one. It seems drink has been the cause of a great deal of trouble in her family. And your good Vicar here is a teetotaler too, so he informed me yesterday. He argues truly that he cannot teach what he does not practise. I was surprised to hear that even in this quiet little village drink is the curse of the place."
"I believe that is so. There are several notorious drunkards amongst the fishermen, and one in whom we, as a family, are much interested, on his daughter's account, is likely to join their ranks."
"You refer to that fine, strong man who took us out boating yesterday, I presume?"
"Yes; Josiah Petherick. He is a most reliable man when sober, but when he has been drinking—which often happens now, I fear—he is a perfect brute. I have been hearing many tales to his discredit lately, and this morning I was told on reliable authority in the village, that he spends nearly all his earnings at the 'Crab and Cockle' now, and begrudges the money for the household accounts. Last night, he went home more intoxicated than usual—actually mad drunk—and smashed up some of the furniture in his cottage, after which he turned his little daughter out-doors. The poor child was forced to beg a night's lodging from Mrs. Moyle at the village shop, and to-day, all Yelton is talking about it."
A faint exclamation of dismay caused Mrs. Lute and Mr. Fowler, who had been conversing in the garden, close outside the drawing-room window, to look around. They encountered Mrs. Fowler's shocked gaze. Hearing them talking, she had come to the window and had overheard all that had been said.
"Oh, Henry, that poor Salome!" she cried, her blue eyes full of tears. "Have you seen her to-day?"
"No; but the Vicar has. Hearing what had happened, he went down to Petherick's cottage the first thing this morning. Salome had just returned and was doing her utmost to put the place to rights, and her father had gone out in his boat in a very humbled, repentant state of mind, after having apologised to her for his abominable behaviour, and having promised he would not act so madly again."
Mrs. Fowler sighed, whilst Mrs. Lute said gravely, "Let us hope he will keep his word."