“Moonshine, where are you going, you thief?—when did you ever see me drink cold water, or offer it to my friend?”
“Neber see you drink it but once, and den you tipsy, and tink it gin; but you very often gib notin but water to your friends, Massa Cockle.”
“When, you scoundrel?”
“Why, very often you say dat water quite strong enough for me.”
“That’s because I love you, Moonshine. Grog is a sad enemy to us.”
“Massa Cockle real fine Christian—he lub him enemy,” interrupted Moonshine, looking at me.
“At all events, I’m not ashamed to look mine enemy in the face—so hand us out the bottle.”
Moonshine put the bottle on the table.
“Now, Bob,” said Cockle, “what d’ye say to a seven bell-er? Why, hallo! what’s become of all the grog?”
“All drank last night, Massa Cockle,” replied Moonshine.