"But I am liable, as I said just now, to take the disease every moment." "You will be more liable, with your system stimulated and disturbed by brandy. Let well enough alone. Be thankful for the health you have, and do not invite disease." "The doctor ought to know. He understands the matter better than you or I. He recommends brandy as a preventive. He takes it himself." "Because he likes it, no doubt." "It is silly for you to talk in that way," replied the husband, with much impatience. "He isn't rendered more liable to the disease by taking a little pure brandy, for he says that it keeps him perfectly well." "A glass of brandy every day may have been his usual custom," urged Mrs. Hobart. "In that case, in its continuance, no change was produced. But your system has been untouched by the fiery liquid for nearly five years, and its sudden introduction must create disturbance. It is reasonable." "The doctor ought to know best," was replied to this. "He has prescribed it, and I must take it. Life is too serious a matter to be trifled with. 'An ounce of preventive is worth a pound of cure,' you know." "I am in equal danger with yourself," said Mrs. Hobart; "and so are the children." "Undoubtedly. And I wish you all to use a little brandy." "Not a drop of the poison shall pass either my lips or those of the children," replied Mrs. Hobart, with emphasis. "As you please," said the husband, coldly, and turned away. "Edward!" Mrs. Hobart laid her hand upon his arm. "Edward! Let me beg of you not to follow this advice." "Why will you act so foolishly? Has not the doctor ordered the brandy? I look to him as the earthly agent for the preservation of my health and the saving of my life. If I do not regard his advice, in what am I to trust?" "Remember the past, Edward," said the wife, solemnly. "I do remember it. But I fear no danger." Mrs. Hobart turned away sadly, and went up to her chamber to give vent to her feelings alone in tears. Firm to his purpose of using the preventive recommended by the doctor, Mr. Hobart, after dinner, took a draught of brandy and water. Nearly five years, as his wife remarked, had elapsed since a drop of the burning fluid had passed his lips. The taste was not particularly agreeable. Indeed, his stomach rather revolted as the flavor reached his palate. "It's vile stuff at best," he remarked to himself, making a wry face. "Fit only for medicine. Not much danger of my ever loving it again. I wish Anna was not so foolish. A flattering opinion she has of her husband!"