Tode went and came with alacrity, and stood waiting and enjoying while the two drained their glasses.
There was a little wet sugar left in the bottom of Pliny's glass, and he, catching a glance from Tode's watchful eye, suddenly held it forth, and spoke in kindly tone:
"Want that, Todie?"
Tode, a little taken aback, shook his head in silence.
"You don't like leavings, eh? Get enough of the real article, I presume. How do they make this? I dare say you know, now you are at headquarters?"
Tode shook his head again.
"Belongs to the trade," he answered, with an air of wisdom.
"Oh it does. Well how much of it do you drink in a day?"
"Not a drop."
"Bah!"