right down the old, smooth track worn by millions of jest such weak feet,
towards ruin. And Cicely couldn't hold him back after he had got to
slippin': her arms wuzn't strong enough.

She went to the saloon-keeper, and cried, and begged of him not to sell
her husband any more liquor. He was very polite to her, very courteous:
everybody was to Cicely. But in a polite way he told her that Paul wus his
best customer, and he shouldn't offend him by refusing to sell him liquor.
She knelt at his feet, I hearn,--her little, tender limbs on that rough
floor before that evil man,--and wept, and said,--

"For the sake of her boy, wouldn't he have mercy on the boy's father."

But in a gentle way he gave her to understand that he shouldn't make no
change.

And he told her, speakin' in a dretful courteous way, "that he had the law
on his side: he had a license, and he should keep right on as he was
doing."

[Illustration: CICELY IN THE SALOON.]

And so what could Cicely do? And time went on, carryin' Paul further and
further down the road that has but one ending. Lower and lower he sunk,
carryin' her heart, her happiness, her life, down with him.

And they said one cold night Paul didn't come home at all, and Cicely and
his mother wus half crazy; and they wus too proud, to the last, to tell
the servants more than they could help: so, when it got to be most
mornin', them two delicate women started out through the deep snow, to try