But, next, he must find out how it was that with Henry things were so
very different.
The following day Uncle Hiram dined with Henry. Everything was
excellent and well cooked; and Ada sat at the head of the table, with
an easy, quiet grace, which perfectly relieved Uncle Hiram's mind from
any care for her. He knew very well Ada's husband sought in every way
to relieve her of all unnecessary care and anxiety. After dinner came
tea and coffee--nothing more. When they retired from the table Henry
said:
"Uncle, would you like a cigar or pipe? I'll get you one in a few
moments, if you say so."
"And will you join me?" asked his uncle.
"I do not use either. I care not for the weed, and think it better not
to cultivate a taste," answered Henry.
"You are right, my boy--and how about wine or ale?"
"Nothing of the kind, uncle."
"Total abstinence, is it, Henry?"
"Yes, sir."
"I knew you were a temperate man, as is Charley. But he takes his
ale, I notice," said Uncle Hiram.
"Yes, I wish he did not; a man has no idea how such little things, as
he thinks them, draw upon his purse."
"I know, I know!" said Uncle Hiram.
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