I made to pour him a dram.
“Leave me hold that there bottle,” says he. “I wants t’ smell of it.”
’Twas an eager sniff.
“’Tis rum,” says he, simply.
I raised the bottle above the glass.
“Come t’ think of it, Dannie,” says he, with a wistful little smile, “that there bottle o’ rum will do more good where you had it than where I’d put it.”
I corked the bottle and returned it to my bag.
“That’s good,” he sighed; “that’s very good!”
I made him a cup o’ tea....