“Oh, all right; let her go!” he answered. “I’ll have a small lemonade.”
“What?” exploded the man who called himself Don McGregor.
A shout of laughter came from everyone in the bar-room.
“Didn’t you ask me to name my drink?” put in Phil.
“Sure!”
“Well––I’ve named it.”
“No, you ain’t! Lemonade ain’t a drink: it’s a bath.”
More merriment greeted the sally.
Phil flushed but held down his rising temper. He had had five years’ experience of self-effacement which stood him in good stead now.