"Yes," said Mrs. Tulliver, drawing out her muchreduced bunch of keys, "there's some brandy sister Deane brought me when I was ill."
"Get it me, then; get it me. I feel a bit weak."
"Tom, my lad," he said, in a stronger voice, when he had taken some brandy-and-water, "you shall make a speech to 'em. I'll tell 'em it's you as got the best part o' the money. They'll see I'm honest at last, and ha'got an honest son. Ah! Wakem 'ud be fine and glad to have a son like mine,–a fine straight fellow,–i'stead o'that poor crooked creatur! You'll prosper i' the world,my lad; you'll maybe see the day when Wakem and his son 'ull be a round or two below you. You'll like enough be ta'en into partnership, as your uncle Deane was before you,–you're in the right way for't; and then there's nothing to hinder your getting rich. And if ever you're rich enough–mind this–try and get th' old mill again."