“Ay, Thomas, we’ve heard all about it. I’m gradely sorry too; but you mustn’t lose heart, man: the Lord’ll bring him back again; he’s a good lad.”
“He is a good lad,” said Johnson; “and I’ve been and driven him away from his home. That cursed drink has swept him away, as it’s swept almost everything good out of our house. It’ll do for us all afore we’ve done with it; and the sooner it’s the death of me the better.”
“Nay, nay, Thomas, you mustn’t say so,” cried the other; “it’s not right. God has spared you for summat better; turn over a new leaf, man, at once. He’ll give you strength for it if you’ll ask him. Come now, draw your chair to the table, and have a cup of tea and a bit of muffin; it’ll do you good.”
“Ned,” said Thomas, sadly, “I can’t take meat nor drink in your house. I’ve abused you behind your back scores of times, and I can’t for shame take it.”
“Nay, nay, man; never heed what you’ve said against me. You see you’ve done me no harm. I’m none the worse for all that folks can say against me; so draw up your chair, you’re gradely welcome to your tea.”
“Ay, do,” chimed in his wife; “doesn’t Scripture say, ‘If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink:’ and I’m sure you must be both hungry and thirsty if you haven’t tasted since you came from the pit.”
Poor Johnson could not speak. When he was sober he was a feeling man, and a sensible one too. Alas! his sober times were few, but he was sober now. The tears overflowed his eyes, and he brushed them hastily away as he drew his chair near to the bright little circle of happy healthy faces. He ate and drank for a while in silence, and then said with a faltering voice,—
“Ned, you’re a true Christian. I’ll never say a word against you behind your back any more.”
Brierley held out his hand to him, and the other grasped it warmly.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Ned, in a cheery voice, “I’d give a good deal, Thomas, to see you a total abstainer; it’d be the making of you.”