"Come, Ruth, drink your wine," said Mrs. Groombridge, perceiving that the girl's glass remained untouched. "Drink it, Ruth," said John in an undertone. "Come, don't be bashful, Ruth, we are all your friends," said Harry encouragingly. But Ruth advanced to the table, and with trembling hands put her full glass down. The rich colour that had dyed her cheeks a few minutes before had gone, and she was white to the lips, but her voice was firm as she answered: "Please, ma'am, I can't drink it." "Not drink it! Why not, Ruth?" "Because, ma'am, as soon as I was engaged to John, I signed the pledge, and determined I would never touch any intoxicating drink again." Mr. Groombridge raised his eyebrows, and Harry gave a low whistle of astonishment. "What a queer fancy! Perhaps you won't have any objection to giving your reason for taking such a step," said Mrs. Groombridge, with a slight hauteur of manner. "Because--because,"--said Ruth hesitating, and then desperately proceeding; "because, ma'am, I want to do the best for John that I can, and I mean him to have a happy home, and never any reason to be ashamed of me." Ruth stopped suddenly. "Well, well, that is very good and creditable, of course, but what has it all to do with not touching intoxicants?" impatiently asked Mr. Groombridge. "Oh, sir, it has everything to do with it. If you knew what I do about the misery and want that has come to happy hearts and homes, just because the wife had got into the habit of taking too much drink, you would think so too. You know, sir, I was brought up in the town, and couldn't help seeing the curse that drink is. Sometimes the husband was the drinker, and sometimes both of them; and there was scarce a home about us that hadn't been ruined by drink; and so I made up my mind that if ever I had a home of my own, I would do my part towards keeping it free from such a curse, and for John's sake, I have signed the pledge, and for John's sake I must keep it, sir. I hope you and mistress will forgive me for refusing your wine." "Bravo, Ruth! you're a brick," cried Harry. "Be quiet, my son," said his father, adding: "Well, Ruth, I honour your motive, but there are one or two points that I can't see at all. Surely, if you are moderate in your use of stimulant, it would be a blessing, and not a curse, for it is only the excessive use of intoxicants which render them so harmful." "I can't argue about it, sir. I only know that every man and woman who is going down to a drunkard's grave was once moderate in the use of stimulants, and never had a thought of taking too much. I know that there are many who are never anything but moderate drinkers; but there's danger somewhere, and because I can't rightly say where it comes in, and perhaps shouldn't know when it did, I've put myself out of the way of it altogether."