he field. I used to take my boys out and let them play about
on the warm ground while I planted or hoed; and in this way I got
Stephen home many a time when he would have gone over to Healy's, or
some of the neighbours, if it hadn't been for carrying the babies home.
Not that they needed carrying, for they were strong, hearty lads; but
they were fond of their father, and a ride on his shoulders was their
great pleasure. And he was always good to them when he was himself; and
I kept them out of the way as much as I could at other times.

"We got along somehow, on into the summer. Healy's wife was a kind
woman enough, but she had been brought up different to me; and it
worried me so to have Stephen hanging round there that I hadn't much to
say to her any way. I suppose this vexed her, for she was lonesome, and
didn't know what to do with herself; and I used to think she put her
husband up to being more friendly with Stephen on that account: I mean,
partly because she was lonesome, and partly because she saw his being
there worried me. I suffered everything, that summer, in my mind. It
was the old Weston days over again, only worse. It was so lonesome. I
had no one to look to, nowhere to turn. It wouldn't have been so if
Stephen had been all right. With him and my boys well, I would have
asked for nothing more.

"Sunday was worst. I used to think I was a Christian then; but I didn't
take all the comfort in my religion that I might have done; and Sunday
was a long day. There was no meeting to go to. We had been too well
brought up to think of working in the fields, as the Healys and others
of the neighbours did; and the day was long--longer to Stephen than to
me. I used to read and sing to him and the babies; and if we got
through the day without his straying off to Healy's or some of the
neighbours, I was happy. He might by chance come home sober on other
nights, but on Sunday--never; and it was like death to me to see him go.

"Well, one Sunday afternoon Healy sent for him. Some folks had come
from a settlement farther up the lake, and they wanted Stephen for some
reason or other--I can't tell what, now--and me too, if I would come,
the boy said who brought the message. But I wouldn't go, and did my
best to keep Stephen at home, till he got vexed, and went away, at last,
without a pleasant word.

"Oh! what a long day that was! The children played about very quietly
by themselves, and I sat with my hea