“Didn’t?”
“No; I never took a drink of liquor in my life.”
Haley stared hard at Frank.
“If I were running a dime museum, I’d engage you as a freak,” he said, in a manner that brought the color to Merry’s face. “You’ll excuse me if I take a snifter. It’s my time for one.”
“Go ahead, sir,” bowed the youth.
So Haley poured out a brimming glass of the stuff and dashed it off without a “chaser.”
“Ah!” he said, smacking his lips. “That’s all right. Better than we’ll get when we get further west.”
He put away bottles and glasses. Then, turning to Frank once more, produced a cigar case, opened it and held it out.
“Have a weed?” he invited.
“Excuse me,” protested Frank.