Sorrowful as Janice Day was because of the report upon little Lottie Drugg’s affliction, she was equally troubled regarding the storekeeper himself. Janice had a deep interest in both Mr. Drugg and ’Rill Scattergood “that was,” to use a provincialism. The girl really felt as though she had helped more than a little to bring the storekeeper and the old-maid school-teacher together after so many years of misunderstanding.

It goes without saying that Mrs. Scattergood had given no aid in making the match. Indeed, as could be gathered from what she said now, the birdlike woman had heartily disapproved of her daughter’s marrying the widowed storekeeper.

“Yes,” she repeated; “there I found poor, foolish ’Rill her own eyes as red as a lizard’s bathing that child’s eyes. I never did believe them Boston doctors could cure her. Yeou jest wasted your money, Janice Day, when you put up fer the operation, and I knowed it at the time.”

“Oh, I hope not, Mrs. Scattergood!” Janice replied. “Not that I care about the money; but I do, do hope that little Lottie will keep her sight. The poor, dear little thing!”

“What’s the matter with Lottie Drugg?” demanded Marty, from the doorway. Walky Dexter had started homeward, and Marty and Mr. Day joined the women folk in the sitting room.

“Oh, Marty!” Janice exclaimed, “Mrs. Scattergood says there is danger of the poor child’s losing her sight again.”

“And that ain’t the wüst of it,” went on Mrs. Scattergood, bridling. “My darter is an unfortunate woman. I knowed how ’twould be when she married that no-account Drugg. He sartainly was one ’drug on the market,’ if ever there was one! Always a-dreamin’ an’ never accomplishin’ anything.

“Now Lem Parraday’s opened that bar of his’n an’ he’d oughter be tarred an’ feathered for doin’ of it I ‘spect Hopewell will be hangin’ about there most of his time like the rest o’ the ne’er-do-well male critters of this town, an’ a-lettin’ of what little business he’s got go to pot.”

“Oh, Miz Scattergood,” said Aunt ’Mira comfortably, “I wouldn’t give way ter sech forebodin’s. Hopewell is rather better than the ordinary run of men, I allow.”

Uncle Jason chuckled. “It never struck me,” he said, “that Hopewell was one o’ the carousin’ kind. I’d about as soon expec’ Mr. Middler to cut up sech didoes as Hope Drugg.”

Mrs. Scattergood flushed and her eyes snapped. If she was birdlike, she could peck like a bird, and her bill was sharp.

“I reckon there ain’t none of you men any too good,” she said; “minister, an’ all of ye. Oh! I know enough about men, I sh’d hope! I hearn a lady speak at the Skunk’s Holler schoolhouse when I was there at my darter-in-law’s last week. She was one o’ them suffragettes ye hear about, and she knowed all about men and their doin’s.

“I wouldn’t trust none o’ ye farther than I could sling an elephant by his tail! As for Hopewell Drugg he never was no good, and he never will be wuth ha’f as much again!”

“Well, well, well,” chuckled Uncle Jason, easily. “How did this here sufferin-yet l’arn so much about the tribes o’ men? I ’spect she was a spinster lady?”

“She was a Miss Pogannis,” was the tart reply.

“Ya-as,” drawled Mr. Day. “It’s them that’s never summered and wintered a man that ’pears ter know the most about ’em. Ev’ry old maid in the world knows more about bringin’ up children than the wimmen that’s had a dozen.”

“Oh, yeou needn’t think she didn’t know what she was talkin’ abeout!” cried Mrs. Scattergood, tossing her head. “She culled her examples from hist’ry, as well as modern times. Look at Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob! All them men kep’ their wimmen in bondage.

“D’yeou s’pose Sarah wanted to go trapesing all over the airth, ev’ry time Abraham wanted ter change his habitation?” demanded the argumentative suffragist. “Of course, he always said God told him to move, not the landlord. But, my soul! a man will say anything.

An see how Jacob treated Rachel

“Great Scott!” ejaculated Uncle Jason, letting his pipe go out. “I thought Jacob was a fav’rite hero of you wimmen folks. Didn’t he sarve how many was it? fourteen year, for Rachel?”

“Bah!” exclaimed the old lady. “I ’spect she wished he’d sarved fourteen year more, when she seen the big family she had to wash and mend for. Don’t talk to me! Wimmen’s never had their rights in this world yet, but they’re goin’ to get ’em now.”

Here Aunt ’Mira broke in to change the topic of conversation to one less perilous: “I never did hear tell that Hopewell Drugg drank a drop. It’s a pity if he’s took it up so late in life and him jest married.”

“Wal! I jest tell ye what I know. There’s my ‘Rill cryin’ her eyes out an’ she confessed that Drugg had gone down to the tavern to fiddle, and that he’d been there before. She has to wait on store evenin’s, as well as take care of that young one, while he’s out carousin’.”

“Carousin’! Gosh!” exploded Marty, suddenly. “I know what it is. There’s a bunch of fellers from Middletown way comin’ over to-night with their girls to hold a dance. I heard about it. Hopewell’s goin’ to play the fiddle for them to dance by. Tell you, the Inn’s gettin’ to be a gay place.”

“It’s disgustin whatever it is!” cried Mrs. Scattergood, rather taken aback by Marty’s information, yet still clinging to her own opinion. It was not Mrs. Scattergood’s nature to scatter good quite the opposite. “An’ no married man should attend sech didoes. Like enough he will drink with the rest of ’em. Oh, ’Rill will be sick enough of her job before she’s through with it, yeou mark my words.”

“Oh, Mrs. Scattergood,” Janice said pleadingly, “I hope you are wrong. I would not want to see Miss ’Rill unhappy.”

“She’s made her bed let her lie in it,” said the disapproving mother, gloomily. “I warned her.”

Later, both Janice and Marty went with Mrs. Scattergood to see her safely home. She lived in the half of a tiny cottage on High Street above the side street on which Hopewell Drugg had his store. Had it not been so late, Janice would have insisted upon going around to see “Miss ’Rill,” as all her friends still called, the ex-school teacher, though she was married.

As they were bidding their caller good night at her gate, a figure coming up the hill staggered into the radiance of the street light on the corner. Janice gasped. Mrs. Scattergood ejaculated:

“What did I tell ye?”

Marty emitted a shrill whistle of surprise.

“What d’ye know about that?” he added, in a low voice.

There was no mistaking the figure which turned the corner toward Hopewell Drugg’s store. It was the proprietor of the store himself, with his fiddle in its green baize bag tightly tucked under his arm; but his feet certainly were unsteady, and his head hung upon his breast.

They saw him disappear into the darkness of the side street. Janice Day put her hand to her throat; it seemed to her as though the pulse beating there would choke her.

“What did I tell ye? What did I tell ye?” cried the shrill voice of Mrs. Scattergood. “Now ye’ll believe what I say, I hope! The disgraceful critter! My poor, poor ’Rill! I knew how ’twould be if she married that man.”

It chanced that Janice Day’s Bible opened that night to the sixth of Proverbs and she read before going to bed these verses:

“These six things doth the Lord hate; yea, seven are an abomination unto him.

“A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood.

“An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief.

“A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren.”