David had never known such peace. It was not that his father
became actively kind; rather that he forgot to be actively unkind.

"Not as I care a brazen button one way or t'ither," the boy informed
Maggie.

"Then yo' should," that proper little person replied.

M'Adam was, indeed, a changed being. He forgot to curse James
Moore; he forgot to sneer at Owd Bob; he rarely visited the
Sylvester Arms, to the detriment of Jem Burton's pocket and
temper; and he was never drunk.

"Soaks 'isseif at home, instead," suggested Tammas, the
prejudiced. But the accusation was untrue.

"Too drunk to git so far," said Long Kirby, kindly man.

"I reck'n the Cup is kind o' company to him," said Jim Mason.
"Happen it's lonesomeness as drives him here so much." And
happen you were right, charitable Jim.

"Best mak' maist on it while he has it, 'cos he'll not have it for
long," Tammas remarked amid applause.

Even Parson Leggy allowed--rather reluctantly, indeed, for he was
but human--that the little man was changed wonderfully for the
better.

"But I am afraid it may not last," he said. "We shall see what