“Oh, do!” said Kristy.
CHAPTER IX
ONE LITTLE CANDLE
This story is about a girl not much older than you, who had a great trouble come upon her, some years ago. Her father who was—I’m sorry to say—a drunkard, had at last died, leaving Alice Rawson, and her brother a little older, to take care of their invalid mother.
The trouble that came upon her, as I said, was the finding that the brother, who was steady at his work, and proud to support the family, began to go out every evening. The great dread seized her that he would follow in the footsteps of his father. They had suffered so much from the father’s habits, that this was almost more than she could bear, and she felt sure that it would kill her mother.
She tried every way she could think of to entertain her brother at home, but she could not make it gay and lively as it was in the saloon where the boys met, and when she tried to coax him to stay at home, he answered her that it was awful dull in the evening after a long day’s work.
Alice could not deny this, and she had not a word to say when one evening he ended with, “You can’t expect a fellow to stay mewed up at home all the time. Now look here,” as he saw the tears come into Alice’s eyes, “you needn’t fret about me, Sis. I’m bound to take care of myself, but I must have a little pleasure after working all day. Good-by; I’ll be home by nine.”
But he was not home by nine, nor by ten, and the clock had struck eleven when Alice heard his step. She hurried to the door to let him in. His face was flushed, and his breath—alas!—reminded her of her father’s.
He made some excuse and hurried off to bed, and Alice sank into a chair in the sitting-room. She was shocked. She was grieved. This was the first time Jack had showed signs of being under the influence of strong drink, and she felt as if she could not bear it.