said the poor
creature. "I feel low like, awfully low; I am going down--down, and it
supports me to hold your hand; you're a good girl, anyone can see that."

"I try to be," said Effie, tears springing to her eyes.

"Ah, it's well to be good," continued the woman. "When we come to lie as
I'm lying now, we think a sight of goodness."

"I hope you'll soon be better," said Effie.

"Never, my love, never again. I'm going out--that's what is happening to
me; it's a lonesome thing to die, but I don't feel so lonesome when I'm
holding your hand."

Effie came to the poor creature as often as she could. Once again the
fascination of the life she so dearly loved drew her out of herself, and
enabled her to forget the heavy home cares.

In her bedroom that night Sister Dorothy paid her a visit.

"Well, Effie," she said, "I've news for you. Mr. Lawson saw George last
night. He spoke to him quite frankly, and said that, if he did not
immediately give over this awful gambling, he'd go and see his cousin,
Mr. Gering."

"And what did George say?" asked Effie.

"Oh, he promised as faithfully as possible that he'd give it up. Mr.
Lawson seemed quite pleased with him, and said he didn't think he'd have
been so penitent and so easily influenced as he has been."

"But will he give it up?" questioned Effie.

"He promised to. Of course he is anxious at not being able to earn more
money, for the foolish fellow encouraged your mother to be extravagant,
and now there are several debts which must be met somehow. What's the
matter with you, Effie? Why do you start?"

"How can I help it? Debts would kill mother. Perhaps I ought to tell
you, Dorothy--you have been so good to me, and I trust you so much that
I don't think it can be wrong to tell you any trouble which concerns
me."

"No, of course it isn't. Speak out what is in your mind, Effie."

"Well, George was in trouble that time he came to see father--that time
when father was dying. He owed Mr. Lawson--I can't tell you how, I
can't tell you why--L250. He said that if the money were not paid back
within six weeks, that he, George--oh, Dorothy, how can I say it?--that
he'd have to go to--to _prison_! He said he must have the money; I felt,
too, that he must have the money; for our mother's sake. So I went to
see Squire Harvey, and he--he lent it to me."

Dorothy sat down on the side of the bed. Effie's story made her feel
very grave. She paused for a moment, puzzled what to say