Jarius. Jes’ so. Young feller, you’ve only seen the dark side of life. You’ve been dipped into temptation; but hang on to me and I’ll pull you out. There’s my hand.
Will. And there’s mine.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. Let’s understand things. There’s got to be a rippin’ away of old associations—no billiards, no cards, no theatres.
Will. There’s my hand.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. You’re to stick to all I ask, although it goes agin the grain.
Will. There’s my hand.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. Here’s the hardest. You must solemnly promise that for one year you will never touch, taste, or handle liquor, plain or embellished, raw or fancy. It’s hard, young feller, for you, but it’s your only hope.
Will. It is, indeed, Jarius. Heaven bless you! You are a true friend. As you speak, I feel the strength of your good, noble heart animating mine. Yours is the first warning voice that has ever reached my ears, and I will heed it. Do with me as you will. I promise.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Nuff sed; shake. (They stand in centre of stage, with clasped hands, as the curtain slowly descends.)