George slept heavily until the middle of the forenoon, and then awoke with a raging headache. Bess had several times during the morning stolen into the room to see if her brother were awake. When he did finally turn over and open his eyes, he saw the young girl standing by the bedside. He groaned as he recalled the night and his mother's look, and Bess said timidly as she laid her hand on his forehead: "George, I'm so sorry for you! Don't you feel well?" "I feel as if my head would split open. It aches as if someone were chopping wood inside of it." "What makes you feel so?" asked Bess innocently. "Did you eat too much supper at the Bramleys'?" Bess had never seen anyone drunk before, and when George was helped to bed the night before by his father and mother, she did not understand his condition. She had always adored her big brother. It was not strange she had no idea of his habits. George looked at his sister curiously; then, under an impulse he could not explain, he drew her nearer to him and said: "Bess, I'm a bad fellow. I was drunk last night! Drunk!--do you understand? And I've nearly killed mother!" Bess was aghast at the confession. She put out her hand again. "Oh, no, George!" Then with a swift revulsion of feeling she drew back and said: "How _could_ you, with father feeling as he does?" And little Bess, who was a creature of very impulsive emotions, sat down crying on what she supposed was a cushion, but which was George's tall hat, accidentally covered with one end of a comforter which had slipped off the bed. Bess was a very plump little creature, and as she picked herself up and held up the hat, George angrily exclaimed: "You're always smashing my things!" But the next minute he was sorry for the words. Bess retreated toward the door, quivering under the injustice of the charge. At the door she halted. She had something of Clara's passionate temper, and once in a while she let even her adored brother George feel it, small as she was. "George Hardy, if you think more of your old stovepipe hat than you do of your sister, all right! You'll never get any more of my month's allowance. And if I do smash your things, I don't come home drunk at night and break mother's heart. That's what she's crying about this morning--that, and father's queer ways. Oh, dear! I don't want to live; life is so full of trouble!" And little twelve-year-old Bess sobbed in genuine sorrow. George forgot his headache for a minute. "Come, Bess, come, let's kiss and make up. Honest, now, I didn't mean it. I was bad to say what I did. I'll buy a dozen hats and let you sit on them for fun. Don't go away angry; I'm so miserable!" He lay down and groaned, and Bess went to him immediately, all her anger vanished. "Oh, let me get you something to drive away your headache; and I'll bring you up something nice to eat. Mother had Norah save something for you--didn't you, mother?"