“They do,” groaned Tom.
“But not all, Tom—not all. There, man, fill up and drink. Here’s my little darling Jessie—your darling, if you’re the man I take you for.”
“If you talk like that, I must go,” said Tom.
“Hey? What! go? Stuff, man! Have a little faith. I don’t say Jessie’s perfect; but she’s a better girl than you believe her. Try her again, man.”
Tom shook his head.
“Fred is always there in my light.”
“Turn him out of it, then. Bah! You weak idiot! You imagine twice as much as you have any grounds for. Take my advice, or leave it—I don’t care which. I only give you the hint for your own sake. Puss, puss, puss!”
He got up, opened the window, and the cats came trooping in, to leap upon him and show their delight, while he petted first one and then another as they thrust their heads into his hands, Tom sitting back and watching him the while.
“Curious, isn’t it?” said Hopper, chuckling. “But a man must have friends. I’ve got very few, so I take to cats, and they are as faithful as truth. Capital things to keep, Tom, my lad. Only behave well to them, and it don’t matter how great a scoundrel you are, they never find you out, nor believe what the world says—they stick to you to the end.”
Tom took another glance round the quaint room, to see dozens of fresh objects at every look—old china, ancient weapons, curious watches, besides articles of vertu that must have been of great value; and the old fellow chuckled as he saw the direction of his glances.