If you would see still another point of resemblance between the Scot and the Norman, look at them as they indulge in their little pet transgression.
When Donald orders his glass of whisky, he is always careful to say:
"Waiter, a small whisky."
The Irishman asks for a "strong whisky," straight out, like a man.
Donald is modest, he asks for his small. That is the allowance of sober folks, and the dear fellow is one of them. But just add up at the end of the evening the number of wee draps that he has on his conscience, and you will find they make a very respectable total.
Now look at the Norman taking his cups of café tricolore after dinner.
Do not imagine that he is going to take up the three bottles of brandy, rum, and kirschwasser, and pour himself out some of their contents. No, no; he would be too much afraid of exceeding the dose. He measures it into his spoon, which he holds horizontally; and, to see the precautions he takes, you would think he was a chemist preparing a doctor's prescription.
"A teaspoonful of each," he says to you; "that is my quantity."
But how they brim over, those spoonfuls! When the overflow has fallen into the cup, he shows you the full spoon, with the remark: