nk you'd
better stay at home," said his wife in displeased tones.

"Don't be high and mighty, my dear; we weren't going to hear Tim Morris
declare that the public-house wasn't a fit place for a respectable man
to put his nose inside, without showing him that he'd made a confounded
teetotaler's mistake; and being three respectable men, we went in, and
took our supper beer there, instead of in our own homes. That's all
right, isn't it?" he asked defiantly.

"If you had stopped at your own supper beer it might have been; but it
looks more than likely that you drank your own and your wife's share
too, judging from appearances," answered Susan bitterly, for she had
been feeling the want of her usual stimulant for some time past.

"You can fetch yours, my dear; I've no objection, I'm sure."

"No objection!" Susan felt outraged. If he had been sober, such a word
could not have fallen from his lips, for he never would permit her to
enter the door of a public-house. There was no help for it now; she must
go, for she could not do without her customary glass, and she dared not
ask George to go, lest he should be tempted to imbibe still more freely
than he had done.

Putting on her bonnet, and seizing a jug, she hurried down the road to
the corner where there were four public-houses blazing with light. She
chose the quietest; and entering the jug and bottle department, found
herself alone, and screened from all eyes, save those of the barmaid,
who stepped forward to take her jug.

"Half a pint, please," said Susan.

Suddenly a thought struck her. If she took her ale home George would be
sure to want some; and she knew that he had already exceeded by far his
usual limit; why should she not stand and drink hers there? There was no
one to see her; no one would ever be the wiser. It would only be just
for once, she told herself, to put temptation out of her husband's way.

"If you'll kindly bring me a glass, I'll drink it here," she said to the
barmaid.

"Certainly, ma'am;" and Susan rapidly drained her glass, and walked home
with her empty jug.

If that night the heavy curtain which shrouded the unknown future could
have been lifted, and to George and Susan Dixon there could have been
revealed their unwritten history, with what shuddering awe would each
have turned from the sin-darkened record, and cried with one of old: "Is
thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?"

FOOTNOTE:

[A] Reprinted, by permission, fr