“I wish father was home,” said Mrs. Ellis.  “Supper is all ready.”

“I don’t think it’s any use to wait for him,” returned Henry.

“Why not?” asked the mother, looking with some surprise at her son, in whose voice was a covert meaning.

“Because he won’t be home to supper.”

“Have you seen him, Henry?”

Mrs. Ellis fixed her eyes earnestly upon her son.

“Yes, mother.  I saw him go into a tavern as I was coming along.  I went in and tried to persuade him to come home with me.  But he was angry about something, and told me to go about my business.  I then said—­’Do, father, come home with me,’ and took hold of his arm, when he turned quickly around, and slapped me in the face with the back of his hand.”

The boy, on saying this, burst into tears, and sobbed for some time violently.

“Oh, Henry! did he do that?”

Such was the mother’s exclamation.  She tried to control her feelings, but could not.  In a moment or two, tears gushed over her face.

The only one who appeared calm was Kate, Henry’s oldest sister.  She uttered no expression of pain or surprise, but, after hearing what her brother said, looked down upon the floor, and seemed lost in meditation.

“My poor children!” such were the thoughts that passed through the mind of Mrs. Ellis.  “If I could only screen you from these dreadful consequences!  If I only were the sufferer, I could bear the burden uncomplainingly.  Ah! will this cup never be full?  Is there no hope?  How earnestly I have sought to win him back again, Heaven only knows.”

From these reflections Mrs. Ellis was aroused by the voice of Kate, who had arisen up and was taking from a nail in the wall her bonnet and an old merino coat.

“Where is the tavern, Henry?” said she.

“What tavern?” answered the boy.

“The tavern where you saw father.”

“In Second street.”

“Why do you wish to know?” inquired Mrs. Ellis.

“I will go for him.  He’ll come home for me.”

“No—­no, Kate.  Don’t think of such a thing!” said Mrs. Ellis, speaking from the impulse of the moment.

“It won’t be of any use,” remarked Henry.  “Besides, it’s very dark out, sister, and the tavern where I saw him is a long distance from here.  Indeed I wouldn’t go, Kate.  He isn’t at all himself.”

The young girl was not in the least influenced by this opposition, but, rather, strengthened in her purpose.  She knew that the air was damp and chilly, from an approaching easterly storm; and the thought of his being exposed to cold and rain at night, in the streets, touched her heart with a painful interest in her erring, debased, and fallen parent.

“It will rain to-night,” said she, looking at her brother.

“I felt a fine mist in the driving wind just as I came near the door,” replied Henry.

“If father is not himself, he may fall in the street, and perish in the cold.”