As he got near the street in which he knew she lived, he looked

down at his clothes, his hands, and shoes.

'I should m'appen ha' cleaned mysel', first?' It certainly would have been desirable, but Margaret assured him

he should be allowed to go into the yard, and have soap and towel

provided; she could not let him slip out of her hands just then.

While he followed the house-servant along the passage, and

through the kitchen, stepping cautiously on every dark mark in

the pattern of the oil-cloth, in order to conceal his dirty

foot-prints, Margaret ran upstairs. She met Dixon on the landing.

'How is mamma?--where is papa?' Missus was tired, and gone into her own room. She had wanted to

go to bed, but Dixon had persuaded her to lie down on the sofa,

and have her tea brought to her there; it would be better than

getting restless by being too long in bed.

So far, so good. But where was Mr. Hale? In the drawing-room.

Margaret went in half breathless with the hurried story she had

to tell. Of course, she told it incompletely; and her father was

rather 'taken aback' by the idea of the drunken weaver awaiting

him in his quiet study, with whom he was expected to drink tea,

and on whose behalf Margaret was anxiously pleading. The meek,

kind-hearted Mr. Hale would have readily tried to console him in

his grief, but, unluckily, the point Margaret dwelt upon most

forcibly was the fact of his having been drinking, and her having

brought him home with her as a last expedient to keep him from

the gin-shop. One little event had come out of another so

naturally that Margaret was hardly conscious of what she had

done, till she saw the slight look of repugnance on her father's

face.

'Oh, papa! he really is a man you will not dislike--if you won't

be shocked to begin with.' 'But, Margaret, to bring a drunken man home--and your mother so

ill!' Margaret's countenance fell. 'I am sorry, papa. He is very

quiet--he is not tipsy at all. He was only rather strange at

first, but that might be the shock of poor Bessy's death.'

Margaret's eyes filled with tears. Mr. Hale took hold of her

sweet pleading face in both his hands, and kissed her forehead.

'It is all right, dear. I'll go and make him as comfortable as I

can, and do you attend to your mother. Only, if you can come in

and make a third in the study, I shall be glad.' 'Oh, yes--thank you.' But as Mr. Hale was leaving the room, she

ran after him: 'Papa--you must not wonder at what he says: he's an----I mean he

does not believe in much of what we do.' 'Oh dear! a drunken infidel weaver!' said Mr. Hale to himself, in

dismay. But to Margaret he only said, 'If your mother goes to

sleep, be sure you come directly.' Margaret went into her mother's room. Mrs. Hale lifted herself up

from a doze.




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