“You’ve been better to me these three weeks than you ever was before, Jerry; keep on bein’ so, won’t you? It puts me in mind of old times--times when you used to laugh, an’ kiss me.” “I’d be that way again,” said Tappelmine, “if I could only pick up stren’th.” “You’re that way now, Jerry, if you only stay as you are.” “_You’ll_ die, Mariar,” said the man, “if I don’t get out of this bed some way--you an’ the young uns.” “I’d be glad enough,” said the woman, “if you’d only stay, Jerry.” “An’ the boys an’ girls?” queried Tappelmine. “Would be better off alongside of me in the ground, rather than have their dad go backwards again,” said Mrs. Tappelmine. “People turn up their noses at ’em now, Jerry.” “What are you drivin’ at, Mariar?” “Why, Jerry, when the children go ’long the road--God knows I don’t let ’em do it oftener than I can help--folks see ’em dirty, an’ wearin’ poor clothes, an’ not lookin’ over an’ above fed up, an’ they can’t help kind o’ twitchin’ up their faces at ’em once there was a time when I couldn’t have helped doin’ it to young ones lookin’ that way.” “_Curse_ people!” exclaimed Tappelmine. “They do it to me, too,” continued the woman. Tappelmine sprang up, and exclaimed fiercely, “What for?” “’Cause--’cause you’ve made ’em, I reckon, Jerry,” answered Mrs. Tappelmine with some difficulty, occasioned by some choking sobs which nearly took exclusive possession of her. “You know, Jerry, I don’t say it to complain--complainin’ never seems to bring one any good to a woman like me; but--if you only knowed how folks look at me in--in stores, an’ everywhere else, you--wouldn’t blame me for not likin’ it. _I_ didn’t ever do anything to bring it about, unless ’twas in marryin’ _you_, and I _ain’t_ sorry I did _that_; but I wish I didn’t ever have to see anybody again, if you’re goin’ to keep on drinkin’.” The sick man fell back and was silent; his wife threw herself beside him, crying, “Don’t get mad at me, Jerry; God knows it’s the deadest truth.” After a moment or two Tappelmine laid a hand on his wife’s cheek, where it had not been before for twenty years; once its touch had brought blushes; now, tears hurried down to meet it, and yet Mrs. Tappelmine was happier than when she had been a pretty Kentucky girl, twenty years before. “Mariar,” said Tappelmine at last, “I’ve dragged you all down.” “No, you haven’t, Jerry,” asserted Mrs. Tappelmine, with a lie which she could not avoid. “If dyin’ll help you up again, I’m willin’,” continued Tappelmine.