It was easy to be seen that Mrs. Ryan had proved no dull scholar, but had readily learned the manly logic that might is right almost as perfectly as her husband had intended that she should. "I'll keep your children to tea, Mrs. Ryan; and, if you like, they can go with my Jimmie and Alice to some children's affair they're holding in the school-room round the corner this evening." "Shure ye're the bist uv neighbours an' I'm grateful to ye for riddin' me uv the worrit uv of the childer for a spell. But will ye jist sind Meg in afore she's off to the matin'? Me head's crazy, an' she must git me a dhrop uv the craythur to put a bit uv spirit inter me." Mrs. Fisher promised, and then left the house. After tea, little Meg, a forlorn, wiry child of eight years, came in and fetched the stimulant which her mother craved, and with which Mrs. Ryan comforted herself over her trying lot. About eight o'clock the little ones returned. Three unkempt, ragged urchins, full of excitement about all they had witnessed. "Oh, mother, sich pritty picthures, an' sich fine singin'. An' sich nice spoken jintlemen an' ladies." "An' sich swate cards wid ribbon to hang 'em up." "An' what was it all about, thin?" asked the weary mother, roused to interest. Meg answered: "The jintlemen tould us that the dhrink was a curse an' a shame, an' he said it made folks cruel an' bad--" "Thrue for him!" interjected the mother. "An' he said," continued Meg, "that it wad be betther for no wan niver to touch it at all, at all, an' thin they wad niver git dhrunk. An' he wanted all the childer in the room to sign a promise niver to put it to their lips; an' heaps uv 'em wint up an' signed, an' got a card wid their names on to hang up, an' Mrs. Fisher's Jimmie an' Alice signed. An' we said we'd ax you, mammy, an' maybe you'd say, 'Yes,' an' thin we could sign nixt week." "Yes, an', mammy, we don't want to be like daddy whin we grow up, so we may sign, mayn't we?" eagerly put in Teddie, the youngest. "Ye might be worse nor yer poor father, an' don't ye say a worrud against him; an' as for ye signin' the pledge, ye'll do no sich thing. A dhrap uv the craythur now an' thin won't hurt a livin' soul; an' I'll not have ye sit yersilves up to be betther nor yer own father an' mother." And poor deluded Mrs. Ryan finished her third glass of hot whiskey and water, and drained the sweet dregs into the open mouth of her wan-faced baby. A few days after, his drinking bout being over for the time being, Donovan Ryan sat over the kitchen fire watching his wife's preparations for tea. "Shure, Patty, have ye heard that Harry Fisher has turned teetotal?" he suddenly said. "Niver, shurely, now; what's the likes uv him, as niver gits dhrunk more nor wance in a blue moon, nade to be jhinin' a wake-minded, wathery set like the teetotalers?" exclaimed Mrs. Ryan, in a tone of irritation. Donovan stirred uneasily.