"Ah, Master Godfrey, you are just like your pa—you will have your joke. Lord bless the child! he has swallowed the whole glass of wine. He will be 'toxicated."
Godfrey and the Colonel laughed, while Anthony slid from his chair, and taking the housekeeper by the hand, said, in a gentle tone, "You have no one to love you, Mrs. Paisley. If you will be kind to me, I will love you."
"Who could help being kind to you, sweet child?" said the good woman, patting his curly head and kissing the rosy mouth he held up to her. "You are a good boy, and don't make fun of people, like some folks."
"That's me," said Godfrey. "Tony, you are quite welcome to my share of Mrs. Paisley; and instead of Benjamin's, you may stand a chance to get Jacob's portion also."
"Will you have some wine, Anthony?" said his uncle, handing him a glass as he spoke.
The child took the liquid, tasted it, and put it back on the table, with a very wry face. "I don't like it, uncle—it is medicine."
"You will like it well enough by and by," said Godfrey. "I suppose the stingy one at home only drinks Adam's ale?"
"What is that?"
"Water. A mess only fit for dogs and felons. Gentlemen, Anthony, rich gentlemen like you and me, always drink wine."
"I shall never like it," said the child. "I love milk."