"No, sir; I don't drink, sir; I've given it up," cries Muzzy, with no consciousness that everything about him gives the lie to his words. "I've taken the pledge a dozen times--a dozen times, sir, and I'll take it again if you want me to." Mr. Sheldrake laughs; but something in the old man's earnest imploring manner makes him suddenly serious, and he gazes attentively at the shaking form before him. "Listen to me, old man," he says impressively. Muzzy leans forward to denote obedience. "Look at me." But Muzzy finds it impossible to comply with this demand. He raises his eyes a dozen times, but he cannot control them. Invariably they seek the ground. "I see you, sir," he murmurs apologetically. "Do you think it possible that you could look respectable if you had a respectable task to perform?" "Yes, sir, I think so; I am sure so, sir; but I should want better clothes than these," in apology for his rags. "And possible to keep sober, if it was worth your while?" "I'll take a solemn oath, sir, not to touch another drop of drink as long as I live--not another drop! Shall I take my oath now? I'll take it this minute, sir, upon the book!" In his eagerness he takes up a betting-book, and stands waiting for the word of command. "Put down the book, you old fool! When I want you to take your oath, I'll let you know." "Ready at any time, sir--at any minute." Which is literally true. "And when I want you to turn over a new leaf----" "As many as you please, sir; I'm ready." "You'd better do, if you don't want to go to the dogs. What would you do if I were to say, 'Muzzy, old man, I've got no farther use for you?' How would you live? Tell me that." Mr. Sheldrake knows that he is striking terror to the old man, for he is the only friend Muzzy has in the world. Muzzy, standing in abject humility before his patron and master, has no proper idea what a valuable servant he is to that gentleman, not that the dirty work which he performs for his employer would be poorly paid if he received his wages threefold. All that he is conscious of is that he is an old man, very feeble, very shaky, fit for nothing but the work--if it can be called so--he is engaged in, and that it is in Mr. Sheldrake's power to deprive him of the only pleasure the world affords--the pleasure of getting drunk in private. "I'll do my best, sir," he says humbly. "You may depend on the old man, sir. He's a little bit shaky sometimes, but Muzzy's to be depended on." "All right, then; you can go now." But still Muzzy lingers, passing the back of his hand over his mouth with a parched air. When he has mustered sufficient courage to speak, he says, "Taraban started at twelve to one, didn't he, sir?" "That's the price, Muzzy, and I wish I'd known what you knew, you old dog."