Here cousin Beebe sot in, and sez he, "Well, jest fill up a glass for the lady about half full, not a drop more, then pour out a glass for yourself——"
"What, full?" sez I.
"Sartinly," sez he.
"Wal," sez I; "that seems kinder hoggish tu give yourself more than you du to the lady; I don't seem tu like that."
"It's the fashion," sez he.
"Oh, is it?" sez I; "wal I think as like as not they know how to help themselves arter a feller's gone. I always notice that the gals that are so mighty stuck up as if they couldn't swaller anything but air before folks, stuff like all natur back of the pantry door."
John larfed a leetle as if he agreed with me, and sez he, "Never mind that now, but when you've poured out the wine, jest step back and make a bow, and say, 'The compliments of the season,' or any other interesting thing that you like. A person of your genius should not be at a loss for pleasant sayings—and after that drink off the wine, take a leetle of anything else that is on the table, and go away agin."
"Wal now," sez I, "I can remember what to say well enough, though it does seem to me that there would be a leetle too much soft sodder in the speech, if it warn't made to a lady; but suppose you jest go over the manœuvre about the wine, so that I can git the kink on it, if you hain't no objection."
"Very well," sez he, "remember I'm you, and you are the lady."