"Bet."

"Yes, mother."

"You'll make me a bit of promise afore I go?"

"A promise, mother?"

"Yes, a promise. Oh, Bet, a promise from you means an awful lot. You
don't break your word. You're as strong as strong,--and if you promise
me this, you'll be splendid--you'll be--give me a drop of the cordial,
child,--you'll be--I have been praying about it all day, I have been
saying, 'Lord, send Bet in gentle-like, and trackable-like, and with
no anger nourished in her heart, and, and,--another sip, child--the
breath's short--I--you'll make me the promise, won't you, child?"

"Oh yes, poor mother, if I can!"

"Yes, you can; and it'll be so splendid. There, I'm stronger, now. Him
as knows has given me the strength. Why, you're me over again, Bet,
but you're twice as grand as me. You're me without my frets, and my
contrariness. Fancy, Bet, what you'd be in this 'ere place ef you made
that promise. Why, strong?--strong 'ud be no word for it! You, with
never your temper let out like a raging lion! There'd be no one as
could stand agen you, Bet. Your father,--why your father 'd give up
the bad ways and the drink. And the little boys,--the little boys,--oh,
Bet, Bet, ef you'd only make the promise it 'ud save them all from
hell-fire."