“S-ss-sh! That’s him,” came a warning whisper.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I seem to have slept late.”
It was apparent to all that Mr. Dill’s spirits were decidedly better than when he had retired.
Yankee Sam suggested humorously:
“I reckon they was a little slow gittin’ around with the tea-kittle to thaw you out, so you could git up.”
Mr. Dill declared that he had been agreeably disappointed in his night; that he really felt quite rested and refreshed.
“If it isn’t too soon after breakfast, friends,” he said tentatively, as he produced a flask.
It was quickly made clear to him that it was never too soon, or too late, for that matter, and a suggestion of force was necessary to tear the flask from Yankee Sam’s face.
“What? Teetotaler?” As Uncle Bill shook his head.
“Not exactly; sometimes I take a little gin for my kidnas.”