"Is he going to be a teetotaler, then?" Margaret inquired eagerly.
"No—o," was the dubious reply, "I'm afraid not; but he says he won't take more beer than is good for him. Oh, I know he has said that lots of times before, but I believe he really means it now. Indeed, he has been quite different these last few days—more like what he used to be when dear mother was alive."
This was quite true. Mrs. Moyle's words that he would have to choose between drink and Salome had made a strong impression upon Josiah, and had caused him to notice how much thinner and paler his little daughter had become of late. His conscience reproached him on her account, for he knew that she was not very strong, and that she worked hard, besides which, his unsteady habits were a constant trouble to her. In his repentance, he felt capable of denying himself anything for her sake—except drink, and that, he solemnly vowed he would take sparingly.
Seeing that Salome was so hopeful that her father meant to live a sober life for the future, Margaret had not the heart to express the doubts which occupied her mind; but on her return to Greystone, she saw, by Mr. Fowler's grave face when she explained the situation to him, that he did not believe Josiah's repentance would be lasting, and trembled for the safety and happiness of her little lame friend.
"Don't you think he means to keep his word, and not get intoxicated again?" she questioned.
"Oh, yes!" Mr. Fowler replied, "I think he means all he says. But I feel sure, if he does not give up drink altogether, it will soon have the mastery over him again. I believe he loves Salome very dearly, but he loves drink even better than his little daughter, or he would be willing to give it up for her sake. Poor Salome! I greatly fear she has more trouble in store for her with that father of hers."
This proved to be the case. For before a fortnight had quite elapsed since Salome's accident, Josiah was drinking heavily again, and spending his evenings at the "Crab and Cockle," as he had done of old. His repentance had been of brief duration; and the lame girl's face grew pinched, and her dark brown eyes larger and sadder, as her father squandered more and more of his earnings at the village inn; whilst Silas Moyle grumbled when the Pethericks' bread account remained unpaid, and would have stopped the supply, but for Salome.
"The poor little maid looks half-starved as it is," he remarked to his wife when she expressed surprise that he took no steps to obtain his rights. "Josiah's drinking what ought to be spent on his child; but it shall never be said that we begrudged her bread."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
Mrs. Fowler and Salome.