This conversation had taken place as we were walking from the hotel to an establishment that had been recommended to us.
“Remember,” continued Don, “you must act for the joint interest, and there are several points well worth considering. In the first place, whiskey is much cheaper; then it is probably purer than the brandy you buy here; if a bottle should be broken the loss is less——”
“Certainly; if you would be equally content, I should arrange it differently.”
“How often must I tell you not to consider me, and I am decidedly pleased at your change of views. Now, putting aside any supposed preference on my part, what proportions would you suggest?”
“Nine of whiskey to three of brandy.”
“Ah,” gasped Don, losing his breath at the suddenness of this response, “have you given the matter sufficient consideration? You have not even ascertained the price;” and then turning to the clerk, he asked: “How do you sell your best whiskey?”
“Eight dollars a dozen, and brandy two dollars a bottle.”
“Nine bottles of whiskey would be six dollars,” I calculated aloud, “and six for the brandy, make twelve. Have them packed and delivered on board the City of Cleveland promptly at half-past seven, because she leaves at eight.”
“But are you satisfied?” cried Don in an agony of horror at such a want of discussion; “have you examined all the bearings of the change? Can it be packed in time? You know whiskey does not go as far as brandy. Are you sure you have enough? Is there no question about that being the best proportion? Would you not prefer all whiskey? In case of sickness, may we not need more brandy? What is the best mode of packing it? Is it sure to be at the boat punctually?”
“That is the clerk’s affair; if it is there it will be paid for, and if not it won’t. Let’s look at the town; come,” and I dragged him off just in time to avoid a dozen new propositions, and as many unanswerable questions, leaving the clerk, bottle in hand, looking the image of despair at the avalanche of inquiries that had burst upon him.