f sounds from below reaches us. Footsteps are upon the
stairs, uncertain, shuffling, as if grouping in darkness. Low,
persuasive voices are heard, a sharp retort follows. "No, Clara is
fiendish when I have been drinking, I will not meet her."

A woman has just brushed past us. She stands at the head of the
stairs, pale and determined.

"Bring him not here," she hisses between her closed teeth, to the men
who are assisting her husband to mount. "Take him to your own
homes--listen to his ravings. Bear his insults; blows if need be.
Perform the most disagreeable services for him. Yes, even imperil your
lives in his service, you who are his disinterested friends. You, who
have enjoyed your bacchanalian revels with him, take the consequences.
Bring him not to me. I despise, I hate the man who cannot control his
appetite--I tell you away with him!" she shrieked, as his friends
continued to urge him upward.

"Clara." A hand is laid gently on her arm. Her mother-in-law stands
trembling beside her; the noise has awakened her, and she has come out
in her night dress. "I will take Edward to my room and quiet him; he
shall not disturb you, my daughter."

"I am not your daughter. I will no longer be his wife. I will leave
the house this moment never to return. He has disgraced me long
enough. I will not bear it. I will not be the wife of a drunkard. I
have told him so times without number. You may soothe him if you
like--pet him--give him peppermint--I will not live with a man who
cannot control his appetite."

Tears and entreaties, are of no avail; the determination of the
high-spirited wife remains unaltered, and she has gone forth to her
father's house, leaving her mother-in-law not quite alone with the
invalid, for Louise and the doctor have been summoned.

Meanwhile, how thrives Daddy?

We shall see by the morning sun. It has just risen, and so has Daddy.
He peeps out and the sun peeps in, blinding his old eyes and cheering
his old heart. He and Recta are happy now. Hear him whistle like a boy
as he dresses. Recta helps him put his rheumatic arm into his coat
sleeve, and he kisses Recta.

Both leave the room, and as they pass a door standing ajar, push it
open; Here is little Fanny Green standing with bare feet before the
open window, brushing out her flaxen hair.

"O, Daddy," she exclaims, "a bird flew in here awhile ago, a real live
bird flew right in at the window, and throbbed his wings so hard
against the glass