“I hope so,” Mrs. Ellet answered, as she kissed Susie’s face where the tears clung like drops of dew on a rose.  “I pray that he may break off the habit, and I can do nothing but pray, and leave the rest to God.”

That night Mr. Ellet came home to supper, as usual.  He was a hard-working man, and a good neighbor.  So everybody said, but he had the habit of intemperance so firmly fixed upon him that everybody thought he would end his days in the drunkard’s grave.  Susie kissed him when he came through the gate, as she always did, but there was something in her face that went to his heart.  A look so sad, and full of touching sorrow for one so young as she!

“What ails my little girl?” he asked as he patted her curly head.

“I can’t tell you, father,” she answered, slowly.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it would make you feel bad,” Susie replied.

“I guess not,” he said, as they walked up to the door together.  “What is it, Susie?”

“Oh, father,” and Susie burst into tears again as the memory of Ned Graham’s words came up freshly in her mind, “I wish you wouldn’t drink any more for the boys and girls don’t like to play with me, ’cause you do.”

Mr. Ellet made no reply.  But something stirred in his heart that made him ashamed of himself; ashamed that he was the cause of so much sorrow.

After supper he took his hat, and Mrs. Ellet knew only too well where he was going.

At first he had resolved to stay at home that evening, but the force of habit was so strong that he could not resist; so he yielded, promising himself that he would not drink more than once or twice.

Susie had left the table before he finished his supper, and as he passed the great clump of lilacs by the path, on his way to the gate, he heard a voice and stopped to listen to what she was saying.

“Oh, good Jesus, please don’t let father drink any more.  Make him just as he used to be when I was a baby, and then the boys and girls can’t call me a drunkard’s child, or say such bad things about me.  Please, dear Jesus, for mother’s sake and mine.”

[Illustration:  Susie’s Prayer]

Susie’s father listened to her simple prayer, with a great lump swelling in his throat.  When her prayer was ended, he went up to her, knelt down by her side, and put his arm around her.

“God in heaven,” he said very solemnly, “I promise to-night, never to touch another drop of liquor as long as I live.  Give me strength to keep my pledge, and help me to be a better man.”

“Oh, father,” Susie cried, her arms about his neck, and her head upon his breast, “I’m so glad!  I shan’t care about anything they say to me now, for I know you won’t be a drunkard any more.”

“God helping me, I will be a man!” he answered, as taking Susie by the hand he went back into the house where his wife was sitting with the old patient look of sorrow on her face,—­the look that so often rested there.