"It is very good indeed, madam, and may be permitted for the support of our poor, weak bodies after a long ride in such bleak and disconsolate weather."
"Take another glass, sir," said the hostess, who stood at the end of the table with the bottle still in her hand.
"On no account--on no account, Mistress White," replied her guest; "We may use such things discreetly, but by no means go into excess. I would not for the world--don't talk of it."
There are two ways, however, of understanding that same injunction, "don't talk of it," which those who have been accustomed to read the book of human nature find no great difficulty in applying properly; and in this instance, as in manner others, Mrs. White saw that it meant "Don't talk of it; but do it without talking," and therefore replying, "Oh, sir, it's very weak: it's so old, 'tis scarcely stronger than water," she poured the glass full, as it stood at Mr. Dry's elbow, while he turned round to say something to Arrah Neil on his other side.
The worthy gentleman took not the slightest notice of this proceeding; but looking up in Mrs. White's face, he said--
"And so you think, ma'am, that you will be able to get me Master Hugh O'Donnell's right address by to-morrow morning?"
"I am certain of it," replied the landlady, who thought there was no great harm in a little confidence, whatever might be the result.
Arrah Neil looked down in silent thought, and then raised her large, bright eyes with an inquiring look in the landlady's face; while Mr. Dry, as if in a fit of absentness, took up the glass, and sipped nearly one half of the contents before he recollected what he was about. He then, however, set it down suddenly, and inquired--
"Pray, can you tell me if Mr. Twigg the drysalter is now in Hull? A God-fearing and saintly man, Mrs. White, who used to hold forth to the edification of a flock that was wont to assemble at the tabernacle in Backwater alley."
"Oh, dear! yes, sir, he is in Hull," replied Mrs. White. "I saw the good gentleman only yesterday."