ed speaking of it. Then, in awe-struck
tones, she confided to her friend.

"Say, Rosie, what do you think? He hasn't had a drink since the day you
stayed all night with me. I don't know how long he can stand it. He
looks awful and he makes me give him about ten cups of tea at night. I
don't believe he sleeps more than half an hour." Not relief so much as a
new kind of fear showed in Janet's face and sounded in her voice. "And,
Rosie, he's just terrible to live with, because he never says a word....
Don't it beat all the way you long and long for a thing and then, when
you get it, it turns out entirely different! There I used to suppose I'd
be perfectly happy if only he'd stop boozing but now, when I wake up at
night and hear him rolling around and groaning, why, do you know, Rosie,
it scares me to death. It's just like he's fighting something that I
can't see. And the worst is I can't do anything to help him but get up
and make him some more tea."

Both Rosie and Janet were too familiar with Dave's type to hail as a
happy reformation those first days of struggle. They stood back and
waited, grateful for each day won but as yet not at all confident of the
morrow.

"He certainly is trying," Rosie would say, and Janet would repeat, a
little dubiously, "Yes, he's trying."

A day came when she looked tenser and more breathless than usual. "What
do you think, Rosie? He handed me over fifteen dollars this week and ten
last week that I didn't tell you about. I didn't want to too soon. All
he said was, 'You take care of this till your mother comes home.' I'm
paying up the back rent and I've started a savings account at the
Settlement."

Rosie's eyes opened wide. "Well now, Janet, he certainly does deserve
credit!" As Janet made no comment, Rosie demanded: "Don't you think he
does?"

Janet's answer was disconcerting. "Why does he deserve credit for doing
what he ought to do?"

Rosie was a little hurt. "When a person does right, I don't see why
you're so afraid of giving them a little credit."

"Rosie O'Brien, you're just like all the women! Let a good-for-nothing
drunk sober up for a day or two, and they all go saying, 'The poor
fellow! Ain't he fine! Ain't he noble! He certainly does deserve
credit!' But do you ever hear them giving any credit to the decent
hard-working men who support their families every day of the year? I've
never heard you say that your father deserved credit!"

This was rather startling and Rosi