Grandmother, however, had no such scruples.
"He shan't have it! Those rum sellers shan't get it from him!" she exclaimed.
When he had recovered from the effects of his playday Jim was always fervently glad that he had not spent his savings.
But his bad habits rapidly grew on him, and we fully expected that his savings, which, thanks to grandmother's resolute efforts, now amounted to nearly four hundred dollars, would eventually be squandered on drink.
"It's no use," Addison often said.

"It will all go that way in the end, and the more there is of it the worse will be the final crash." Others thought so, too--among them Miss Wilma Emmons, who taught the district school that summer.

Miss Emmons was tall, slight and pale, with dark hair and large light-blue eyes.

She would have been very pretty except for her very high, narrow forehead that not even her hair, combed low, could prevent from being noticeable.

She made you feel that she was constantly intent on something that worried her.
As time passed, we came to learn the cause of her anxiety.