"
"With me," I insisted.
"Not at all, not at all. On the house. All for the good of the house.
Come along, Bob, have a drink!"
It was the boots who had now entered, and he strolled up to the bar
with all the self-possession of a welcome guest.
"Just a spot of Scotch, old thing!" he said brightly. "It's a hard
life. Shaking down good and comfy, laddie?"--this last to me. "Ask for
anything you fancy. It doesn't follow you'll get it, but if we have it,
it's yours. Tinkle, tinkle; crash, crash!" With this unusual toast he
raised his glass and drained it.
"Have another," he said. "Three Scotches, Boniface."
I protested. This was too hot and fast for me altogether. Besides, I
did not fancy being indebted to this somewhat overwhelming boots. My
protest was of no avail. The glasses were filled while yet the words
were upon my lips. I thought of Tony, and trembled. Common decency
would force me to stand still another round before I could cry a halt.
"All well in the buttery?" asked the boots, in a confidential tone of
the landlord.
"The banquet is in preparation," replied the latter.
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