The mason who had been drinking was sitting on a stone, holding his hand to his head. The other one kept on with his work though he could do nothing to advantage alone.
Mr. Curtis picked up the bottle, and, holding it in his fingers, said to the sober man,—
"Do you use this vile stuff?"
"No, sir; not a drop. I see too much of it to want to put myself in the power of any kind of liquor."
"Do you live with Jerrold?"
"Yes, sir, he's a second cousin to my father. He could be a rich man, sir, if he'd let drink alone."
"He has done his last day's work for me. I will not employ a man who swears or makes a beast of himself with liquor. If you have a mind to work and can comply with my conditions, you may get an assistant and take Jerrold's place. I shall know in a few days whether you are capable of carrying on the whole job."
"I thank you, sir, all the same; but it'll be a terrible disappointment to Jerrold. His wife is a good woman; and she'll take it to heart terribly. He was overcome with liquor, and didn't know what he said to the boy."
"My son has told me nothing," explained Mr. Curtis. "I saw him throw the bottle in your face; and I heard what you said to him. I should wish your answer at once, whether you would choose to go on with the work."