urn down," added Sophie, with perfect seriousness.

Suddenly Janice felt that she could echo that desire herself.
Ethically two wrongs do not make a right; but it is human nature to see
the direct way to the end and wish for it, not always regarding ethical
considerations. Janice became at that moment converted to the cause of
making Polktown a dry spot again on the State map.

"My dear!" she said, with her arm about the tangle-haired little
Sophie, "I am sorry for--for your father. Maybe we can all help him to
stop drinking. I--I hope he doesn't abuse you."

"He's awful good when he's sober," repeated the little thing,
wistfully. "But he ain't been sober much lately."

"How many are there of you, Sophie?"

"There's ma and me and Johnny and Eddie and the baby. We ain't named
the baby. Ma says she ain't sure we'll raise her and 'twould be no use
namin' her if she ain't going to be raised, would it?"

"No-o--perhaps not," admitted Janice, rather startled by this
philosophy. "Don't you have the doctor for her?"

"Once. But it costs money. And ma's so busy she can't drag clean up
the hill to Doc Poole's office very often. And then--well, there ain't
been much money since pop come out of the woods this Spring."

Her old-fashioned talk gave Janice a pretty clear insight into the
condition of affairs at the Narnay house. She asked the child where
she lived and learned the locality (down near the shore of Pine Cove)
and how to get to it. She made a mental note of this for a future
visit to the place.

"Here's another dime, Sophie," she said, finding the cleanest spot on
the little girl's cheek to kiss. "Your father's out of sight now, and
you can run along to the store and get the meal."

"You're a good 'un, Miss," declared Sophie, nodding. "Come and see the
baby. She's awful pretty, but ma says she's rickety. Good-bye."

The little girl was away like the wind, her broken shoes clattering
over the flagstones. Janice looked after her and sighed. There seemed
a sudden weight pressing upon her mind. The sunshine was dimmed; the
sweet odors of Spring lost their spice in her nostrils. Instead of
strolling down to the dock as she had intended, she turned about and,
with lagging step, took her homeward way.

The sight of this child's trouble, the thought of Narnay's weakness and
what it meant to his unfortunate family, brought to mind with crushing
force Janice's own trouble. And this personal trouble