“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering what it was to be.
“Al,” he said, sternly, like a judge, “is your aunt a regular drinker—of intoxicants?”
So that was the question! I gasped, choked, and with my eyes on the floor, confessed, “She is, sir.”
“Well,” said the superintendent, “I am very sorry for you, my boy! I am sorry that you have to suffer because of other people. We cannot allow women who drink to live in our houses. We will not allow it if we know about it.”
“But my aunt won’t drink here,” I said. “She said so, and there aren’t any saloons, sir. That is the reason we came out this way!”
“Your aunt has been seen drunk in the village already!” announced the superintendent. “What do you think about that?”
The bottom went out of the fairy world we had hoped to live in, with that news. I could only stand there, dazed, shocked, wild with the sense of our loss.
“You cannot have the house I promised,” said the superintendent. “I have told your uncle that. The furniture is not unloaded yet, and it must return. We will cover the expenses. We cannot permit the other women to suffer because of your aunt. She obtained liquor in some way and I shall look into it. You must go back. You cannot have any of our rents.”
“But, sir,” I pleaded, “won’t you give us a chance. My uncle wants to do well, and we will try and see that my aunt keeps straight too. When we get settled, she’ll change. It’s our only chance. If we go back to the city it will be as bad as before, and that was bad enough. Give us one more chance!”
“But your aunt has managed to get drunk already, after having been in town only a few days. What will it be later?”