"What's the matter?" asked Jack, frowning. "Why won't you drink?"
"I never drink," answered Ben. "I promised my father I wouldn't, and I can't break my word."
"This wine is weak. It wouldn't hurt a baby."
"I would rather not drink," said Ben.
"Ain't you goin' a little too fur, Ben?" remonstrated Bradley. "Your father meant rum and whisky and sich. He wouldn't mind wine."
"Yes, he would," said Ben, resolutely. "I had an uncle who died a drunkard, and it was that that made my father so particular. I promised him faithfully, and now that he's dead, I can't break my work to him."
"The boy's right, Jack," said Bradley. "It won't hurt you and me, but if he don't want to drink, we won't press him."
"It's blasted nonsense!" exclaimed Jack angrily. "The boy's puttin' on airs, that's what's the matter."
"He's a good boy," said Bradley. "You don't know him as well as I do."
"Jest as you say," muttered Jack, in a dissatisfied tone. "If you want to go to bed now, you can."