"They don't know what to think now," I said, "and if you are wise, you will never let them know."
"The Colonel was proud of that punch," she mused.
"I dare say he had reasons," I answered grimly.
"Especially after Cousin Looshe Peavey came to spend Christmas with us one time. The Colonel had always considered Cousin Looshe rather arrogant about this punch, and it may have been a special brew. I know that Cousin had an immense respect for it after he was able—that is—afterwards—"
"I can easily believe it."
"Cherry brandy—Jamaica rum—pint of Madeira—gill of port—a bit of cordial—some sherry—I forget if there's anything else."
I grasped the chair in which I sat.
"Heaven forbid!" I cried; "and don't tell me, anyway—I'm reeling now."
"But of course there are lemons and oranges and cherries and tea and quantities of ice to weaken it—"
"The whole frozen polar sea itself couldn't weaken that mixture of elemental forces. See to it," I went on sternly, "that you remember only the innocent parts of it if you are ever asked for the recipe." She actually cowered.