on his knees and prayed
for mercy, again repeating the words, "Almighty God, help me to use the
remaining days in the wisest and best manner." Then calming himself by
a tremendous effort, he rose and faced the day's work as bravely as any
man could under such circumstances.

After a family council, in which all of them, on account of their
troubles, were drawn nearer together than ever before, Mr. Hardy
outlined the day's work something as follows:

First, he would go and see James Caxton and talk over the affair
between him and Clara. Then he would go down to the office and arrange
some necessary details of his business. If possible, he would come
home to lunch. In the afternoon he would go to poor Scoville's
funeral, which had been arranged for two o'clock. Mrs. Hardy announced
her intention to go also. Then Mr. Hardy thought he would have a visit
with George and spend the evening at home, arranging matters with
reference to his own death. With this programme in mind he went away,
after an affectionate leave-taking with his wife and children.

George slept heavily until the middle of the forenoon, and then awoke
with a raging headache. Bess had several times during the morning
stolen into the room to see if her brother were awake. When he did
finally turn over and open his eyes, he saw the young girl standing by
the bedside. He groaned as he recalled the night and his mother's
look, and Bess said timidly as she laid her hand on his forehead:

"George, I'm so sorry for you! Don't you feel well?"

"I feel as if my head would split open. It aches as if someone were
chopping wood inside of it."

"What makes you feel so?" asked Bess innocently. "Did you eat too much
supper at the Bramleys'?"

Bess had never seen anyone drunk before, and when George was helped to
bed the night before by his father and mother, she did not understand
his condition. She had always adored her big brother. It was not
strange she had no idea of his habits.

George looked at his sister curiously; then, under an impulse he could
not explain, he drew her nearer to him and said:

"Bess, I'm a bad fellow. I was drunk last night! Drunk!--do you
understand? And I've nearly killed mother!"

Bess was aghast at the confession. She put out her hand again.

"Oh, no, George!" Then with a swift revulsion of feeling she drew back
and said: "How _could_ you, with father feeling as he does?"

And little Bess, who was a creature