“I didn’t drink any gin,” laughed Frank. “That’s the secret of it, my boy. I never drink intoxicants.”
“Oh, shay, come off! I shaw you take five, shix, sheven drinks—more’n that.”
“Sho did I,” put in Hackett, bracing up. “You’re ri’, Fred, ol’ man—I shaw him do it. Reg’lar tank, tha’sh ri.”
“You did not see me take a single drink of gin,” declared Merry. “When you insisted that we should drink something, gin was brought for us, with water on the side. We drank the water and left the gin. Black Tom drank the gin, and I hope it does not cost him his position.”
“Wha’—wha’—wha’——” gurgled Fillmore, in a dazed way. “I don’t think I jusht undershtand ju. How wash that?”
“We drank the water, which looked the same as gin, and left the gin, which was brought with it.”
Hackett was sitting on the back seat with Hodge. He reached forward and jabbed Fillmore in the back.
“Ol’ man,” he mumbled, “we’re a pair of eashy marks, that’sh what we are! We’ve been fooled. We started to get thesh fellersh full an’ have fun wish them, an’ they played it on ush. I want to go die shomewhere!”
Fillmore was even more disgusted than Hackett.
“Next time you pick out two chaps as easy be sure you do not make a mistake,” advised Hodge.