CHAPTER XLVIII
OF THE INSUBORDINATION OF SERGEANT ZEBEDEE TRING
"Man Jack," sighed the Colonel, ogling the wine in his glass, "now mark me, Jack, for pure Christian drink there's nought may compare with wine of Oporto, 'tis a heart-warmer, a soul-expander, a sharpener o' th' intellect, a loosener o' tongues. Moreover it doth beget good fellowship and love o' mankind in general. Begad sir, wine of Oporto is—is—I say Oporto wine is—is, well—wine. So give me Oporto——"
"And now and then a dish of tea, George!" added the Major solemnly. At this Colonel Cleeve might have been observed to quail slightly.
"You have acquired the taste—very lately, I think, sir?" enquired the Viscount.
"True, sir," answered the Colonel, rolling his eyes, "and on the whole ha' managed it very well. Tea is none so bad—once 'tis disposed of, I've drank worse stuff ere now—aye and so has Jack. Tea hath its virtues, sir, first 'tis soon over—a dish or so may be swallowed readily enough when cool by a determined effort——"
"Though," murmured the Viscount, "though 'tis better thrown out o' the window, 'twould seem, sir."
Colonel Cleeve rolled his fierce eyes again, sprinkled himself with snuff and finally laughed:
"Agad, Viscount, ya' ha' me there true enough. Look'ee now, one dish I can manage creditably enough, two at a pinch with my lady's eye on me, but three and with Belinda's eye off me—damme, no! So—out o' the window it went, aha! But how came ya' to spy me do't—eh?"