had come home drunk. They did not have it in their souls to know beauty,
or they would have known that those shining eyes and that glowing face
betokened youth's first vision of love.

"Settin' a fine example to the children," Mr. Higginbotham snorted,
suddenly, in the silence for which his wife was responsible and which he
resented. Sometimes he almost wished she would oppose him more. "If he
does it again, he's got to get out. Understand! I won't put up with his
shinanigan--debotchin' innocent children with his boozing." Mr.
Higginbotham liked the word, which was a new one in his vocabulary,
recently gleaned from a newspaper column. "That's what it is,
debotchin'--there ain't no other name for it."

Still his wife sighed, shook her head sorrowfully, and stitched on. Mr.
Higginbotham resumed the newspaper.

"Has he paid last week's board?" he shot across the top of the newspaper.

She nodded, then added, "He still has some money."

"When is he goin' to sea again?"

"When his pay-day's spent, I guess," she answered. "He was over to San
Francisco yesterday looking for a ship. But he's got money, yet, an'
he's particular about the kind of ship he signs for."

"It's not for a deck-swab like him to put on airs," Mr. Higginbotham
snorted. "Particular! Him!"

"He said something about a schooner that's gettin' ready to go off to