"Yes, Thomas, but"——
"But what?"
"Pray, drink no more."
"I'll drink just as much as I please; and, moreover, I won't be dictated to by you, when I can buy your whole stock out, root and branch. I've stood your nonsense long enough, so take my advice and start."
"Oh! Thomas—Thomas!" cried his weeping wife, as she hurried to her little bedroom; "never did I expect this, and you'll be sorry for it in the morning."
"Damn it! I am an unfeeling savage. Don't cry, Pol!" he shouted after her, as she quitted the room; "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, and I won't drink any more, there. Say God bless you before you go in, won't you?"
"God bless you, dear husband!" said the loving wife.
"That's right, Pol!"
As soon as Tom found himself quite alone, he looked carefully at the fastenings of the doors and windows, and having cleared the little table of its contents, proceeded to examine the interior of the pocket-book. With a tremulous hand and a quick-beating heart, he drew it forth, starting at the slightest sound; tearing it open, he spread the thick bundle of notes before him; the sight seemed to dazzle his eye-sight; his breath became heavy and suffocating; there was more, vastly more, than he had ever dreamed of.
"What do I see?" he cried, while his eyes sparkled with the fire of suddenly-awakened avarice, "tens—fifties-hundreds—I do believe—thousands! I never saw such a sight before. What sound was that? I could have sworn I heard a small voice call out my name. For the first time in my life, I feel like a coward. I never yet feared to stand before a giant! now, a boy might cow me down. Pshaw! it's because I'm not used to handling money."