“What has the drinking to do with it?” I asked, rather vexed at the manner in which he put the question.
“I am always afraid that any man who drinks will become a drunkard. Perhaps it is a superstition; but I can’t help it, and you know that the theory is backed up by common experience.”
“I don’t think I’m in any danger; but I am not exactly willing to be bought up to total abstinence.”
“I didn’t mean that, Paley. You know how much wine was drank at your party. Never mind that now; we will talk of it at another time. How much do you owe?”
“Five or six thousand.”
“So much!” exclaimed he.
“All of that. I lost just five thousand on Bustumups,” I replied, desperately.
“I had no idea you were in so deep as that,” he added, looking very serious. “But I will not go back on myself. I will lend you every dollar I have rather than permit the world to go wrong with you. We will talk it over when you return from Albany.”
We parted at the corner of Needham Street, for he was going to the Oliphants to see Miss Bertha. What could Tom mean? He had observed that something was wrong with me. I was troubled. If he had noticed it, perhaps others had, and it was time for me to be gone. He was a noble fellow, and I knew that he was deeply concerned about me. From his standpoint, I had been gambling in fancy stocks, had lost, and was in imminent peril of becoming a drunkard under the influence of my financial troubles. He wanted to be a brother to me, but I felt humiliated by the view he took of my case. Why should he think I was in danger of becoming a drunkard? It was fanaticism.
He offered to lend me money enough to pay my debts. I could not borrow it of him. I could not place myself under so great an obligation to him. He tendered me the means of making myself square with the bank; but then I should be a beggar, five thousand in debt, instead of travelling like a lord in Europe, with over thirty thousand dollars at my disposal. My pride resented his offer and I did not give it another thought.