Part 1 (2/2)
”Goodness only knows when there was ever a comb in that hair!” sighed Janice. ”I would dearly love to clean her up and put something decent to wear upon her, and----”
She did not finish her wish because of an unexpected happening. The little girl came so blithely across the street only to run directly into the wavering figure of the intoxicated Jim Narnay. She screamed as Narnay seized her by one thin arm.
”What ye got there?” he demanded, hoa.r.s.ely, trying to catch the other tiny, clenched fist.
”Oh! don't do it! don't do it!” begged the child, trying her best to slip away from his rough grasp.
”Ye got money, ye little sneak!” snarled the man, and he forced the girl's hand open with a quick wrench and seized the dime she held.
He flung her aside as though she had been a wisp of straw, and she would have fallen had not Janice caught her. Indignantly the older girl faced the drunken ruffian.
”You wicked man! How can you? Give her back that money at once! Why, you--you ought to be arrested!”
”Aw, g'wan!” growled the fellow. ”It's my money.”
He stumbled back into the lane again--without doubt making for the rear door of the Inn barroom from which he had just come. The child was sobbing.
”Wait!” exclaimed Janice, both eager and angry now. ”Don't cry. I'll get your ten cents back. I'll go right in and tell Mr. Parraday and he'll make him give it up. At any rate he won't give him a drink for it.”
The child caught Janice's skirt with one grimy hand. ”Don't--don't do that, Miss,” she said, soberly.
”Why not?”
”'Twon't do no good. Pop's all right when he's sober, and he'll be sorry for this. I oughter kep' my eyes open. Ma told me to. I could easy ha' dodged him if I'd been thinkin'. But--but that's all ma had in the house and she needed the meal.”
”He--he is your father?” gasped Janice.
”Oh, yes. I'm Sophie Narnay. That's pop. And he's all right when he's sober,” repeated the child.
Janice Day's indignation evaporated. Now she could feel only sympathy for the little creature that was forced to acknowledge such a man for a parent.
”Ma's goin' to be near 'bout distracted,” Sophie pursued, shaking her tangled head. ”That's the only dime she had.”
”Never mind,” gasped Janice, feeling the tears very near to the surface. ”I'll let you have the dime you need. Is--is your papa always like that?”
”Oh, no! Oh, no! He works in the woods sometimes. But since the tavern's been open he's been drinkin' more. Ma says she hopes it'll burn down,” added Sophie, with perfect seriousness.
Suddenly Janice felt that she could echo that desire herself.
Ethically two wrongs do not make a right; but it is human nature to see the direct way to the end and wish for it, not always regarding ethical considerations. Janice became at that moment converted to the cause of making Polktown a dry spot again on the State map.
”My dear!” she said, with her arm about the tangle-haired little Sophie, ”I am sorry for--for your father. Maybe we can all help him to stop drinking. I--I hope he doesn't abuse you.”
”He's awful good when he's sober,” repeated the little thing, wistfully. ”But he ain't been sober much lately.”
”How many are there of you, Sophie?”
”There's ma and me and Johnny and Eddie and the baby. We ain't named the baby. Ma says she ain't sure we'll raise her and 'twould be no use namin' her if she ain't going to be raised, would it?”
<script>