“You were always a good son to me,” he said. “Let me give you the mules.”
“Father!”
“Well, after all, I’m at the end of my life, and you.... You know, Orosdi ... but do you know?”
“Father, father!”
But the dirty innkeeper interrupted the conversation by putting the whisky bottle and two glasses on the table.
“Come, let us drink,” said Orosdi, feeling a little uncomfortable and pouring out the liquor.
They drank the spirit neat, and almost immediately the old man’s worn face became flushed and active.
“Well, they are yours,” he said; “I will bring them to you to-morrow.”
His son rose and kissed him on the cheek.
“What can I give you in return?” he asked.