Before, however, she had time to make a reply, Ross entered the kitchen, and said her mistress would like Salome to join her in the drawing-room.
The lame girl found Mrs. Fowler alone, sitting by the fire, for though the weather was not actually cold, the day was dull, and the warmth was pleasant. Mrs. Fowler was very glad to have a visitor, and made Salome sit down near her and talk.
"My husband and I are going up to town the day after to-morrow," she said, "and I wanted to see you before I went. You must stay until the others return and have some tea."
Salome explained that the cook had already given her milk and cake; but Mrs. Fowler smilingly declared she knew she would be ready for tea when tea-time came, which would not be for another hour. She continued to talk pleasantly and easily, whilst the lame girl listened; and by-and-by, when Salome was questioned kindly and sympathetically as to the reason of her wan looks, she confessed, with some hesitation, however, that it was very tight times with her and her father at home.
"The weather has been so bad that no boats have been able to go out," she said; "and—" lowering her voice and colouring scarlet—"father's been worse than usual lately, and—and—he owes money to Silas Moyle, and how can we ever hope to pay it, if he spends so much at the 'Crab and Cockle'? It almost seems as though he doesn't care. And every day, I'm afraid Silas will say he won't let us have any more bread. Oh, it's dreadful—it's all through the drink, ma'am. Father'd be such a dear, good father if it wasn't for that."
"And you really love him in spite of the way in which he goes on?" Mrs. Fowler asked wonderingly.
"Oh, yes, ma'am, indeed I do!" was the earnest reply. "Whatever father did, I think I should love him just the same."
"I don't know how you can, I'm sure; I believe if I were you, I should lose all patience with him. Think how selfish he is, how inconsiderate for your comfort, how violent—"
"Ah, but that's only when he's been drinking!" Salome interposed hastily. "Father isn't like that really; it's only when the drink's in him, that he's all you say. If he would but give up the drink, he and I should be as happy as the day is long. Oh, I shall never cease hoping and praying that some day he may become a teetotaler! If I could get him to take the pledge, I believe all would be well."
"Meanwhile, he is wearing you to death, poor child. Well, don't cease to pray for him. God knows he needs all your prayers."