“I must have something of the sort!” he breathed, huskily. “Aaron, you must get me some of the contents of that bottle!”
“I canna do it,” declared the serving man, as if in great alarm. “Were I to touch it th’ widow wud be sair mad wi’ me.”
“You need not let her know it. She’ll never miss a little—enough for one good drink.”
Still Aaron seemed alarmed.
“I ha’ been wi’ her five year an’ no’ once ha’ I failed to mind her biddin’,” he said weakly.
“I’ll pay you—I’ll pay you well,” said Budthorne. “See, Aaron, here is money. Take it. Bring me enough for a drink from that bottle.”
He pressed the money into the hand of the little man, who seemed on the point of refusing it.
“She wi’ find it out, sir.”
“How? I’ll never tell her.”
“Ye sw’ar it?”