“Glass? Ay, doctor. Want it badly,” cried the old man eagerly, as the doctor produced a silver flask, drew the cup from the bottom, and gave it to the sexton.
Before doing so, however, North gave the flask a sharp shake, and the old man’s eyes sparkled as his countenance assumed a suspicious look at this movement, so suggestive of medicine.
“I say, what is it?” he said.
“What is it? Cordial.”
“Brandy?”
“No.”
“Look here, doctor,” said the old sexton hoarsely; “no games.”
North paused.
“Shall I tell you what you are thinking, Moredock?” he said.
“Nay, you can’t do that, clever as you are,” cried the old man with a chuckle.