Instantly there went up a cheer for Little Pondy and the private nips.
“Won’t be much left for a blow-out,” Tom said, “but I vote we put the stuff in the cellar.”
It did not take long to carry the boxes there and unpack the bottles and uncork one of them for the little nips, which Pondy took on the spot, to sample it, he said. As they emerged from the cellar Kenneth came into the hall. He had been visiting some patients a few miles away and just returned. If the young men had been inclined to make fun of the “old coves,” they had no such idea with regard to the fine-looking man whom Hal introduced as “My cousin, Dr. Stannard.”
They were expecting to see a common country doctor, and were not prepared for the ease and dignity with which Kenneth met them.
He did not say he was glad to see them, but he was courteous and polite, and said he hoped they would enjoy themselves.
“Thanks,” little Pondy replied. “We are going to enjoy ourselves immensely.”
This enjoying himself immensely was his favorite expression, used on all occasions, and to all appearance he did enjoy himself as the days went on, especially after a visit to the cellar and the little nip which he took oftener than his companions thought good for him. “The painting red,” which had been predicted, was mostly done in the house, for as a rule the young men were very quiet outside, especially on the two occasions when they went to the village and sat upon the steps of the hotel, “the dryest place he ever saw,” little Pondy said, after trying the bar and finding nothing stronger than Vichy, Apollinaris and Soda Water. He had ordered ale from Rocky Point, and with this and visits to the cellar, in which his companions sometimes joined, he managed to enjoy himself. There were long drives in the country and sails and fishing on the pond and hunting in the woods, and the young men wore colored shirts and sweaters and big hats, and sometimes had their sleeves rolled up and shirt collars open and looked like anything but swells.
Two or three times Mrs. Stannard questioned Tom as to his improvement with Warner’s Cure, and once suggested that he give Kenneth’s pills a trial, or her recipe, which had cured the deacon of the worst kind of kidney trouble. With the utmost gravity Tom assured her that Warner was doing wonders for him, and told her that if there was a drawback he would try her recipe.
“Well-mannered young men, if they do look like tramps in their old clothes when they come in from fishin’ and huntin’,” she said to Kenneth, “but I don’t like their smokin’ all the time; why, I’ve actually seen it come out of the parlor winder when they are all at it. ’Tain’t good for ’em, and you or’to tell ’em so.”
Kenneth shook his head and said: “Better let the smoke alone. If they do nothing worse than that I shall be glad.”