"What is the consignment, captain?"
"It is from Mr. Bale, madam. I saw him in town, a week before I sailed, and told him I was likely to come on here, direct; and he sent off at once three cases of champagne, and six dozen of port, directed to you; and an eighteen gallon cask of Irish whisky, for Captain O'Halloran."
"My dear," Captain O'Halloran said solemnly, "I believe that you expressed, today, the opinion that your uncle was, metaphorically, an angel. I beg that the word metaphorically be omitted. If there was ever an angel in a pigtail, and a stiff cravat, that angel is Mr. John Bale, of Philpot Lane."
"It is very good of him," Carrie agreed. "We could have done very well without the whisky, but the port wine and the champagne may be very useful, if this siege is going to be the terrible thing you all seem to fancy."
"A drop of the craytur is not to be despised, Mrs. O'Halloran," Dr. Burke said; "taken with plenty of water it is a fine digestive and, when we run short of wine and beer, you will not be despising it, yourself."
"I did not know, Teddy Burke, that you had any experience, whatever, of whisky mixed with plenty of water."
"You are too hard on me, altogether," the doctor laughed. "There is no soberer man in the regiment than your humble servant."
"Well, it will do you all good, if you get on short allowance of wine, for a time. I can't think why men want to sit, after dinner, and drink bottle after bottle of port wine. It is all very well to say that everyone does it, but that is a very poor excuse. Why should they do it? Women don't do it, and I don't see why men should. I hope the time will come when it is considered just as disgraceful, for a man to drink, as it is for a woman.
"And now, Captain Lockett, about Bob. What time must he be on board?"
"He must be on board before gunfire, Mrs. O'Halloran, unless you get a special order from the town major. I was obliged to get one, myself, for this evening. The orders are strict, now; all the gates are closed at gunfire."