When he was lying settled on his bed, and at ease once more, I returned to my brother.
He was sitting in a maudlin attitude by the window, and I saw that he had been at the bottle again.
“Now,” I said, sternly, “let’s settle the last of this with a final question: What is it you want?”
He looked up at me with an idiotic chuckle.
“Wand? What everybody’s always wanding, and I most of all.”
“You mean more money, I suppose?”
“More? Yes, mush more—mush more than you gave me last time, too.”
“Not so much, probably. But lest Zyp should starve I’ll send you what I can in the course of a few days.”
He rose with a feebly menacing look.
“I’m not going till I get what I wand. I wand my part of the treasure. I know where it’s hid, you fool, and I’m wound up for a try at it. Ge’ out of my way! I’ll go and help myself.”