"As yer like, Dennis," said Mr. Hackley, listlessly. "What I reely need is a good long rest, like in a 'orspittle."
Kindly Mr. Ryan filled the small glass almost to the brim; and Hackley, though he had modestly stipulated for "on'y a drap" tossed it all off thirstily at a single practised toss.
"That'll fix you up nice. But ain't I glad," said his host with a sly chuckle, "that nobody sees you taking these drinks on the quiet, which we know you need bad for your health."
Mr. Hackley set down his glass again, this time with something of a bang. "How's that?" he demanded suspiciously.
Ryan laughed deprecatingly. While doing so, he manipulated the tall dark bottle again.
"Shuh!" said he. "It's only the boys' fun, of course. Don't you mind them, Jim."
"What're you drivin' at?" asked Hackley, bristling a bit. "If you got anything worth sayin' to me, spit it out plain, I say."
"Well," laughed Ryan, "if some of the boys was to see you in here putting away a harmless drink or so, o' course they'd say that you was gettin' up your Dutch courage. He, he!"
"Dutch courage!" cried Mr. Hackley, indignantly. "An' wot the hell fer?"
"Sh! Not so loud, Jim. Why, it's only their little joke, o' course. They'd say you was gettin' up your nerve to meet them two friends of yours from New York! Hey? He, he!"