Tode didn't resent this incredulous tone. He was used to being doubted; moreover he knew better than did any one else that there was no special reason for trusting him, so now he only laughed.
"Come, tell us, just for curiosity's sake, I'd like to know how much your queer brain will bear. I won't tell of you."
"You won't believe me," answered Tode coolly, "so what's the use of telling you."
"I will, too, if you'll tell me just exactly. This time I'll believe every word."
"Well then, not a drop."
"Why not?" queried Pliny, still incredulous. "Don't you like it?"
"Can't say. Never tasted it."
"Weren't you ever where there was any liquor before?"
"Slightly!" chuckled Tode over the remembrance of his cellar life, and knowing by a sort of instinct that these two had never been inside of such a place in their lives.
Pliny continued his examination: