It was the beer,
Carter, the beer. I will never touch the stuff again, never," he said
faintly. Then he stretched out his arms upon the table, and bowed his head
upon them. I stood awkwardly by, the tears streaming down my cheeks, but
they were tears of joy.
Mother, who was standing in the kitchen doorway with her apron to her eyes,
came and put her arm about him, and said something, very gently, which I
did not understand. Then she kissed me several times. I shall never forget
the happiness of that hour.
For a long time after that father would not go downtown in the evening
unless I could go with him. He lived to a good old age, and was for many
years head bookkeeper for Mr. Blodget. He kept his promise always.
Mother is still living, and still wears the ring.--_Alva H. Sawins, M.D.,
in the Union Signal_.
* * * * *
The Lad's Answer
Our little lad came in one day
With dusty shoes and weary feet
His playtime had been hard and long
Out in the summer's noontide heat.
"I'm glad I'm home," he cried, and hung
His torn straw hat up in the hall,
While in the corner by the door
He put away his bat and ball.
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