“He wants to say something,” thought Charlie.

“Constantia, years ago you and I had a falling out.  I think I was to blame in tempting that boy’s father, and I have often thought so, but have been too proud to say it all these years.  I did not like what you said; but no matter, I was to blame for what I did, and I did not answer you back in gentleman-fashion.  I want to say I am sorry, and ask you to overlook it and shake hands.”

He held out his hand to Aunt Stanshy.

“He has spoken like a man and what will she do?” thought Will.

Aunt Stanshy was ready to show that she was a woman.  She held out her hand, also, and said, “I said more than I needed to, and I am sorry for that.  Let it go, please.”

“Well,” he exclaimed, “it was mean in me to tempt a man, though I did not see then, as I do now, how low drink may bring a man.  God knows I am low enough.”

The tears were now making their way down old Tim Tyler’s face.  Charlie saw that Aunt Stanshy turned away from those present and looked in another direction, but the quick-eyed boy thought he noticed a redness to Aunt Stanshy’s eyes when she faced the company again.

Will Somers had come from the store in season to hear Tim’s words.  A fisherman soon called who had hurt his hand with a fish-hook and wished to have a poultice applied by the “young doctor,” as people sometimes called Will.  This second party had closely followed Will and had heard what was last said.  It was an interesting scene.  There was the drunkard, confessing how low he had fallen, and there was the woman who once had loved and respected him.  There was Charlie, the son of the man whom the drunkard tried to lead astray.  There was Will, and the fisherman made an additional spectator.

Will stepped up to Tim.

“Mr. Tyler, excuse, me, but why do you stay so low?  Why not come up again?”

“Will’s tone was full of sympathy.

“God knows I would like to come up again.”

“You can, and be back in your old place, owning your own boat, too.”

“Yes,” said Aunt Stanshy, eagerly, “and fishing from the barn, just the same as before.”

“You are all kind, very kind.  It does me good,” and poor Tim actually smiled at the prospect.  “What would my sister, who has clung to me, say?  Wouldn’t she be taken aback?”

The tears were again in the drunkard’s eyes.

“Good deal of the man there yet,” thought Will.  “Your sister might be taken aback, but in that kind of way that would help you forward.  Come,” he said, aloud, “I will go into my room and write a pledge for you, and be back in a moment.”

Tim looked intently at the pledge of total abstinence that Will brought.

“If—­if—­I had some one to sign with me, some one to stand with me,” he murmured.

“I will,” said the fisherman, stepping forward, and now recognized as a previous acquaintance.