"What is it?"
"It's something I've been thinking about very often," said Samuel.
"You were so kind to me, and I saw that you were a good-hearted man.
And so it has always seemed to me too bad that you should be selling
drink."
The other stared at him. "Gee!" he said, "are you going to take me up
in your airship?"
"Mr. Finnegan," said the boy, "I wish you wouldn't make fun of me. For
I'm talking to you out of the bottom of my heart."
And Samuel gazed with so much yearning in his eyes that the man was
touched, in spite of the absurdity of it. "Go on," he said. "I'll
listen."
"It's just this," said Samuel. "It's wrong to sell liquor! Think what
drink does to men? I saw a man drunk the other night and it led to
what was almost murder. Drink makes men cruel and selfish. It takes
away their self-control. It makes them unfit for their work. It leads
to vice and wickedness. It enslaves them and degrades them. Don't you
know that is true, Mr. Finnegan?"
"Yes," admitted Finnegan, "I reckon it is. I never touch the stuff
myself."
"And still you sell it to others?"
"Well, my boy, I don't do it because I hate them."
"But then, why DO you do it?"
"I do it," said Finnegan, "because I have to live. It's my trade--it's
all I know."
"It seems such a terrible trade!" exclaimed the boy.
"Maybe," said the other. "But take notice, it ain't a princely one.
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