"Which was the pun?"
"Don't you see it? Why, a draught of water, and a draft on a gold bank. Ha, ha!"
"O, that was it—was it? I'm much obliged to you for telling me."
Of course Mr. Redmond hardly expected a "countryman" to appreciate his wit.
"I was suffering with thirst, you see," continued the fop.
"I think you said so before."
"I wanted to introduce the matter so as not to be abrupt; not to tear myself rudely away from the ladies, you see. We were gazing out upon the vast ocean, you see; and a quotation from the poet—ah—a doosed odd sort of a thing, written by the poet—what's his name? you know—about an old salt that killed a wild goose, or some sort of a thing, and then had nothing to drink. I repeated the quotation, and both of the girls laughed: 'Water, water, all around, but not a drop of whiskey to drink.'"
"I don't wonder the girls laughed," replied Leopold.
"Why so?" asked Mr. Redmond, blankly.
"You didn't quote it just as the poet 'What-you-call-him' wrote it, Stumpy can give it to you correctly."