"Does you, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, feeling that he was getting into a scrape.
"Yes, I do, Clip; and where do you think it comes from?"
"Don't know, Massa Bob; 'deed I don't."
"It comes from your mouth, Clip. You've been drinking!"
Drops of perspiration stood on Clip's forehead. He could not excuse himself, or explain matters, without betraying his secret. Not thinking of anything to say, he said nothing.
"Tell me the truth, Clip; have you been drinking?"
"I jes' took a little swaller."
"Where did you take it?"
"On sho'."
"What made you do such a thing? I didn't dream that you were getting intemperate, Clip."