“Here’s my darling little Jessie. God bless her! and may she soon be happy with the man of her choice.”
He looked maliciously at the young man as he spoke; but Tom set down his glass untasted.
“I can’t drink that,” he said sternly.
“Hey? Not drink it! Why not?”
“Because, if she marries my brother, she will never be a happy woman.”
“Bah! Idiot! Young fool!” chuckled Hopper. “She won’t marry Fred. I’d sooner poison her. Drink! You care for her, don’t you?”
“I do,” said Tom fervently.
“Then drink to her happiness, and don’t be a selfish ass. If you can’t have her, don’t grudge the pretty little sweet bit of fruit to some one else. Drink.”
“Jessie!” said Tom, softly and reverently; and he drained his glass.
“You’re getting better,” chuckled Hopper; “and I shall make you well before I’ve done.”