“The doctor told me,” she said, addressing Mrs. Travilla, “that I would not like the glasses at first, hardly any one does; but I do, though not so well, I dare say, as I shall after a while when I get used to them.”

Mrs. Gibson’s health was improving so that she was in a fair way to recover and as she was well taken care of and did not need her daughter, Sally felt at liberty to stay with these kind friends and enjoy herself.

She resolved to put away care and anxiety for the future, and take the full benefit of her present advantages.  Yet there was one trouble that would intrude itself and rob her of half her enjoyment.  Tom, her only and dearly loved brother, was fast traveling the downward road, seeming wholly given up to the dominion of the love of strong drink and kindred vices.

It was long since she had seen or heard from him and she knew not where he was.  He had been in the habit of leaving their poor home on the Hudson without deigning to give her or his mother any information as to whither he was bound or when he would return; sometimes coming back in a few hours, and again staying away for days, weeks or months.

One day Elsie saw Sally turn suddenly pale while glancing over the morning paper and there was keen distress in the eyes she lifted to hers as the paper fell from her nerveless hand.

“Poor child; what is it?” Elsie asked compassionately, going to her and taking the cold hand in hers, “anything that I can relieve or help you to bear?”

“Tom!” and Sally burst into almost hysterical weeping.

He had been arrested in Philadelphia for drunkenness and disorderly conduct, fined and sent to prison till the amount should be paid.

Elsie did her best to comfort the poor sister, who was in an agony of shame and grief.  “Oh,” she sobbed, “he is such a dear fellow if only he could let drink alone! but it’s been his ruin, his ruin!  He must feel so disgraced that all his self-respect is gone and he’ll never hold up his head again or have the heart to try to do better.”

“Don’t despair, poor child!” said Elsie, “he has not fallen too far for the grace of God to reclaim him; ’Behold the Lord’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear.’”

“And oh, I cry day and night to him for my poor Tom, so weak, so beset with temptations!” exclaimed the girl, “and will he not hear me at last?”

“He will if you ask in faith pleading the merits of his Son,” returned her friend in moved tones.

“He must be saved!” Mr. Travilla said with energy, when Elsie repeated to him this conversation with Sally.  “I shall take the next train for Philadelphia and try to find him.”

Tom was found, his fine paid, his release procured, his rags exchanged for neat gentlemanly attire, hope of better things for this world and the next set before him, and with self-respect and manhood partially restored by all this and the kindly considerate, brotherly manner of his benefactor, he was persuaded to go with the latter to share with Sally for a few weeks, the hospitality of that pleasant seaside home.