“No, no, really, my dear: the port is so horribly bad that—”
“Then you’ve had Burgundy.”
“Well—well, yes, a little, my dear.”
“I knew it! What’s this?” cried her ladyship, seizing the bottle on the table. “Burgundy, of course.”
“No, Barolo,” said Tom. “Regular physic for gout, isn’t it, gov’nor. Take another glass.”
“Shall I, my boy?” said the old man, hesitating.
“Of course,” cried Tom, pouring one out, which his lordship eagerly drank.
“Tom!” ejaculated her ladyship, whose breath seemed to be taken away by the daring displayed.
“Physic,” said Tom, sharply.
“Have you secured rooms for us?”