At table he would scarcely look up; and
there is not the least doubt that his grief and shame were genuine. Yet
as surely as the months passed the same feverish restlessness would
again show itself in him.
We came to recognize Jim's symptoms only too well, and knew, when we saw
them, that he would soon have to have another playday. In fact, if the
old Squire refused to let him off on such occasions, Jim would get more
and more restless and two or three nights afterwards would steal away
surreptitiously.
"Jim's a fool!" his brother, Asa, often said impatiently. "He isn't fit
to be round here."
But the Squire steadily refused to turn Jim off. Many a time the old
gentleman sat up half the night with the returned and noisy prodigal. A
word from the Squire would calm Jim for the time and would occasionally
call forth a burst of repentant tears. Jim's case, indeed, was one of
the causes that led us at the old farm so bitterly to hate intoxicants.
That, however, is the dark side of Jim's infirmity; one of its more
amusing sides was his bank book. When Jim was himself, as we used to say
of him, he wanted to do well and to thrive like Asa, and he asked the
old Squire to hold back ten dollars from his wages every month and to
deposit it for him in the new savings bank.
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