other's
hand.

"He is a little less feverish, Pap, you had best go to bed. I'll call
Lin early and lie down. Now go on, you have to work and you won't feel
like it, if you don't get your sleep. Go on now, if he gets worse, I'll
call."

"Gets worse I'll call you." Alfred repeated the words over and over in
his mind. He imagined at first that he had been sick a long time. He
gathered his thoughts--the old tavern cellar came into his mind, the
antics of the tan-yard hands after they had quaffed from the tin cup.
Alfred got no further in his ramblings than the tin cup; only a ray of
thought, yet it was of sufficient power to cause the boy to retch and
strain as though he would heave his stomach up.

The mother was holding a vessel in one hand and supporting the very sick
boy with the other arm.

"Muz, Muz, what's the matter with me--how long have I been sick--d-do
you th-i-n-k I'm goin' to die?"

The mother soothed him and persuaded him to go to sleep. Alfred closed
his eyes and pretended to sleep. He heard footsteps and, peering out of
the corner of his eye, he perceived the form of his father bending over
him.

Softly walking over to where the mother sat with bowed head, the father
began: "I thought I heard him talking. Was he awake?"

"Yes," answered the mother.

"What did he say?" eagerly inquired the father.

The mother informed him.

The father, looking toward the bed, remarked half to himself:

"I hope he will be sober enough to talk to me before I leave the house."

"Why, John," hastily began the mother, "you speak as if he were an old
toper."

"Well, Mary. I did not mean it that way. But I have been worried ever
since that minstrel crowd has been gathering at the tan-yard. Of course,
I never knew Alfred to drink whiskey but they all drink more or less and
Alfred is not the boy to pass anything by there's any fun in."

"But they had no business to give a boy whiskey," argued the wife, "and
I would see about it and I would make an example of them if I were
you."

"I will do all of that and more," warmly answered the father. After a
pause, he resumed: "They tell me they were all in Wyatt's cellar and Cal
Wyatt drew a tin cup of high proof whiskey. Alfred put the cup--"

Alfred was following the father's words. At the mention of the word
"cup," his stomach rebelled again. His father was holding a vessel, his
mother supporting the boy's head.

Turning his head, the father ejaculated: "Phew! If tha