The recipient opened it. He tore away the festal wrappings, and held the contents to the light. His eye seemed to kindle. “Looks to me sort of like licker,” he said.
“That’s what it is.”
Mrs. Bugbee was hovering alongside awaiting the expected outburst of gratitude, puzzled though that it should be so long delayed.
“Mind ef I taste it right here?”
“Not at all.”
“Got a corkscrew handy?”
“I think I can locate one.”
“And a glass?”
Mrs. Bugbee brought a tumbler. Mr. Bugbee found a corkscrew.
Deftly Mr. Sisson unstoppered the bottle. Into the glass he poured a taste of the liquid. He did not invite them to share with him. There was about him no suggestion that he meant to make a loving-cup of it. He sipped briefly. “That’s sufficient—I jest wanted to make sure,” he stated. “This here is a stimilent containing’ more’n one-half of one percent alcohol by volume.”