you must be devoted to him. For God's sake, don't let him ruin
himself body and soul!"

Elizabeth was dumbfounded. The tears rushed into her eyes, her voice
choked in her throat. She must, she would defend her brother. Then she
thought of the dinner of the night before, and the night before that--of
the wine bill at Winnipeg and Toronto. Her colour faded away; her heart
sank; but it still seemed to her an outrage that he should have dared to
speak of it. He spoke, however, before she could.

"Forgive me," he said, recovering his self-control. "I know it must
seem mere insolence on my part. But I can't help it--I can't look on at
such a thing, silently. May I explain? Please permit me! I told
you"--his voice changed--"my mother and sisters had been burnt to death.
I adored my mother. She was everything to me. She brought us up with
infinite courage, though she was a very frail woman. In those days a
farm in Manitoba was a much harder struggle than it is now. Yet she
never complained; she was always cheerful; always at work. But--my
father drank! It came upon him as a young man--after an illness. It got
worse as he grew older. Every bit of prosperity that came to us, he
drank away; he would have ruined us again and again, but for my mother.
And at last he murdered her--her and my poor sisters!"

Elizabeth made a sound of horror.

"Oh, there was no intention to murder," said Anderson bitterly. "He
merely sat up drinking one winter night with a couple of whisky bottles
beside him. Then in the morning he was awakened by the cold; the fire
had gone out. He stumbled out to get the can of coal-oil from the
stable, still dazed with drink, brought it in and poured some on the
wood. Some more wood was wanted. He went out to fetch it, leaving his
candle alight, a broken end in a rickety candlestick, on the floor
beside the coal-oil. When he got to the stable it was warm and
comfortable; he forgot what he had come for, fell down on a bundle of
straw, and went into a dead sleep. The candle must have fallen over into
the oil, the oil exploded, and in a few seconds the wooden house was in
flames. By the time I came rushing back from the slough where I had been
breaking the ice for water, the roof had already fallen in. My poor
mother and two of the children had evidently tried to escape by the
stairway and had perished there; the two others were burnt in
their beds."

"And your father?" murmured Elizabeth, unable to take her eyes