Belle Gordon’s indignation was thoroughly aroused by hearing Mary Gough’s story about the loss of her hair, and she made up her mind that when she saw Joe Gough she would give him a very plain talking.

“I would like to see your husband; I would just like to tell him what I think about his conduct.”

“Oh,” said Mary, her pale cheek growing whiter with apprehension; “That’s his footsteps now, Miss Belle don’t say anything to him, Joe’s as good and kind a man as I ever saw when he is sober, but sometimes he is really ugly when he has been drinking.”

Just then the door was opened, and Joe Gough entered, or rather all that remained of the once witty, talented and handsome Josiah Gough. His face was pale and haggard, and growing premature by age, his wealth of raven hair was unkempt and hung in tangled locks over his forehead, his hand was unsteady and trembling from extreme nervousness, but he was sober enough to comprehend the situation, and to feel a deep sense of remorse and shame, when he gazed upon the weary head from whence he had bereft its magnificent covering.

“Here Mary,” said he approaching the bed, “I’ve brought you a present; I only had four cents, and I thought this would please you, I know you women are so fond of jew-gaws,” and he handed [her] a pair of sleeve buttons.

“Thank you,” said she, as a faint smile illuminated her pallid cheek. “This,” she said turning to Miss Gordon, “is my husband, Josiah Gough.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gough,” said Belle bowing politely and extending her hand. Joe returned the salutation very courteously and very quietly, sitting down by the bedside, made some remarks about the dampness of the weather. Mary lay very quiet, looking pitifully upon the mourful wretch at her side, who seemed to regard her and her friend with intense interest. It seemed from his countenance that remorse and shame were rousing up his better nature. Once he rose as if to go-stood irresolutely for a moment, and then sitting down by the bedside, clasped her thin pale hand in his with a caressing motion, and said, “Mary you’ve had a hard time, but I hope there are better days in store for us, don’t get out of heart,” and there was a moisture in his eyes in which for a moment beamed a tender, loving light. Belle immediately felt her indignation changing to pity. Surely she thought within herself, this man is worth saving-There is still love and tenderness within him, notwithstanding all his self-ruin, he reminds me of an expression I have picked up somewhere about “Old Oak,” holding the young fibres at its heart, I will appeal to that better nature, I will use it as a lever to lift him from the depths into which he has fallen. While she was thinking of the best way to approach him, and how to reach that heart into whose hidden depths she had so unexpectedly glanced, he arose and bending over his wife imprinted upon her lips a kiss in which remorse and shame seemed struggling for expression, and left the room.

“Mother Graham,” said Belle, “a happy thought has just struck me, Couldn’t we induce Mr. Gough to attend the meeting of the Reform Club? Mr. R.N. speaks tonight and he has been meeting with glorious success as a Temperance Reformer, hundreds of men, many of them confirmed drunkards, have joined, and he is doing a remarkable work, he does not wait for the drunkards to come to him, he goes to them, and wins them by his personal sympathy, and it is wonderful the good he has done, I do wish he would go.”

“I wish so too,” said Martha Graham.

“If he should not return while I am here will you invite him to attend? Perhaps Mrs. Gough can spare you an hour or two this evening to accompany him.”

“That I would gladly do, I think it would do me more good than all the medicines you could give me, to see my poor husband himself once more. Before he took to drinking, I was so happy, but it seems as if since then I have suffered sorrow by the spoonful. Oh the misery that this drink causes. I do hope these reform clubs will be the means of shutting up every saloon in the place, for just as long as one of them is open he is in danger.”

“Yes,” said Belle, “what we need is not simply to stop the men from drinking, but to keep the temptation out of their way.”

“Joe,” said Mary, “belongs to a good family, he has a first-rate education, is a fine penman, and a good bookkeeper, but this dreadful drink has thrown him out of some of the best situations in the town where we were living.”

“Oh what a pity, I heard Mr. Clifford say that his business was increasing so that he wanted a good clerk and salesman to help him, that he was overworked and crippled for want of sufficient help. Maybe if your husband would sign the pledge, Mr. Clifford would give him a trial, but it is growing late and I must go. I would liked to have seen your husband before I left, and have given him a personal invitation, but you and Mother Graham can invite him for me, so good bye, keep up a good heart, you know where to cast your burden.”

Just as Miss Gordon reached the landing, she saw Joe Gough standing at the outer door and laying her hand gently upon his shoulder, exclaimed, “Oh Mr. Gough, I am so glad to see you again, I wanted to invite you to attend a temperance meeting tonight at Amory Hall. Will you go?”

“Well I don’t like to promise,” he replied, looking down upon his seedy coat and dilapidated shoes.

“Never mind your wardrobe,” said Miss Gordon divining his thoughts. “The soul is more than raiment, ’the world has room for another man and I want you to fill the place.’”

“Well,” said he, “I’ll come.”

“Very well, I expect to be there and will look for you. Come early and bring Mother Graham.”

“Mrs. Gough can spare her an hour or two this evening, I think your wife is suffering more from exhaustion and debility than anything else.”

“Yes poor Mary has had a hard time, but it shan’t be always so. As soon as I get work I mean to take her out of this,” said he looking disdainfully at the wretched tenement house, with its broken shutters and look of general decay.

“Why Mother Graham is [the] meeting over? You must have had a fine time, you just look delighted. Did Joe go in with you, and where is he now?”

“Yes, he went with me, listened to the speeches, and joined the club, I saw him do it with my own eyes, Oh, we had a glorious time!”

“Oh I am so glad,” said Mary, her eyes filling with sudden tears. “I do hope he will keep his pledge!”

“I hope so too, and I hope he will get something to do. Mr. Clifford was there when he signed, and Miss Belle was saying today that he wanted a clerk that would be a first r[at]e place for Joe, if he will only keep his pledge. Mr. Clifford is an active temperance man, and I believe would help to keep Joe straight.”

“I hope he’ll get the place, but Mother Graham, tell me all about the meeting, you don’t know how happy I am.”

“Don’t I deary? Have I been through it all, but it seems as if I had passed through suffering into peace, but never mind Mother Graham’s past troubles, let me tell you about the meeting.”

“At these meetings quite a number of people speak, just as we went in one of the speakers was telling his experience, and what a terrible struggle he had to overcome the power of appetite. Now when he felt the fearful craving coming over him he would walk the carpet till he had actually worn it threadbare; but that he had been converted and found grace to help him in time of need, and how he had gone out and tried to reform others and had seen the work prosper in his hand. I watched Joe’s face, it seemed lit up with earnestness and hope, as if that man had brought him a message of deliverance; then after the meeting came the signing of the pledge and joining the reform club, and it would have done you good to see the men that joined.”

“Do you remember Thomas Allison?”

“Yes, poor fellow, and I think if any man ever inherited drunkenness, he did, for his father and his mother were drunkards before him.”

“Well, he joined and they have made him president of the club.”

“Well did I ever! But tell me all about Joe.”

“When the speaking was over, Joe sat still and thoughtful as if making up his mind, when Miss Gordon came to him and asked him to join, he stopped a minute to button his coat and went right straight up and had his name put down, but oh how the people did clap and shout. Well as Joe was one of the last to sign, the red ribbons they use for badges was all gone and Joe looked so sorry, he said he wanted to take a piece of ribbon home to let his wife know that he belonged to the Reform Club, Miss Gordon heard him, and she had a piece of black lace and red ribbon twisted together around her throat and she separated the lace from the ribbon and tied it in his button-hole, so his Mary would see it. Oh Miss Belle did look so sweet and Mr. Clifford never took his eyes off her. I think he admires her very much.”

“I don’t see how he can help it, she is one of the dearest-sweetest, ladies I ever saw, she never seemed to say by her actions, ’I am doing so much for you poor people’ and you can’t be too thankful.”

“Not she, and between you and I, and the gate-post, I think that will be a match.”

“I think it would make a splendid one, but hush, I hear some persons coming.”

The door opened and Paul Clifford, Joe Gough, and Belle Gordon entered.

“Here Mrs. Gough,” said Paul Clifford, “as we children used to say. Here’s your husband safe and sound, and I will add, a member of our reformed club and we have come to congratulate you upon the event.”

“My dear friends, I am very thankful to you for your great kindness, I don’t think I shall ever be able to repay you.”

“Don’t be uneasy darling,” said Belle, “we are getting our pay as we go along, we don’t think the cause of humanity owes us anything.” “Yes,” said Joe seating himself by the bed side with an air of intense gratification. “Here is my badge, I did not want to leave the meeting without having this to show you.”

“This evening,” said Mrs. Gough smiling through her tears, “reminds me of a little temperance song I learned when a child, I think it commenced with these words:

“And are you sure the news is true?
Are you sure my John has joined?
I can’t believe the happy news,
And leave my fears behind,
If John has joined and drinks no more,
The happiest wife am I
That ever swept a cabin floor,
Or sung a lullaby.

“That’s just the way I feel to-night, I haven’t been so happy before for years.”

“And I hope,” said Mr. Clifford, “that you will have many happy days and nights in the future.”

“And I hope so too,” said Joe, shaking hands with Paul and Belle as they rose to go.

Mr. Clifford accompanied Belle to her door, and as they parted she said, “This is a glorious work in which it is our privilege to clasp hands.”

“It is and I hope,” but as the words rose to his lips, he looked into the face of Belle, and it was so radiant with intelligent tenderness and joy, that she seemed to him almost like a glorified saint, a being too precious high and good for common household uses, and so the remainder of the sentence died upon his lips and he held his peace.