that moves together in droves only where the sunlight of prosperity
fails. If Mr. Jocelyn could regain his former position, or a better
one, there had been nothing in his brief obscurity that would
prevent his wife and daughters from stepping back into their old
social place, with all its privileges and opportunities.

The reader knows, however, that his prospects were becoming more
and more dubious--that each day added a rivet to the chain that
an evil habit was forging. His family did not even suspect this,
although the impression was growing upon them that his health was
becoming impaired. They were beginning to accommodate themselves
to life at its present level, and the sense of its strangeness
was passing slowly away. This was especially true of Belle and the
children, upon whom the past had but a comparatively slight hold.
Mildred, from her nature and tastes, felt the change more keenly
than any of the others, and she could never forget that it raised
a most formidable barrier against her dearest hopes. Mrs. Jocelyn
also suffered greatly from the privations of her present lot,
and her delicate organization was scarcely equal to the tasks and
burdens it imposed. As far as possible she sought to perform the
domestic duties that were more suited to the stout, red arms of
those accustomed to such labors. It seemed essential that Mildred
and Belle should give their strength to supplementing their father's
small income, for a time at least, though all were living in hope
that this necessity would soon pass away. The family was American,
and Southern at that, in the idea that bread-winning was not woman's
natural province, but only one of the direful penalties of extreme
poverty. The working-woman of the South belonged to a totally different
class from that in which Mr. and Mrs. Jocelyn had their origin, and
prejudices die hard, even among people who are intelligent, and,