When Spencer had shown his guest the mill and the houses of his men, he led the way to his own home and seated his guest in the living room. Here from a corner cupboard he produced a bottle and two glasses.
“I've got a little something to offer you here, Mr. Smiley,” said he, “that I think you 'll find drinkable. I usually keep some on hand in case anybody comes along. I don't take much myself, but it's sociable to have around.” Dick tossed off a glass and smacked his lips. “Well, say, that's the real stuff.”
“Guess there ain't no doubt about that.”
“Where do you get it from?”
“I bought that in Detroit last time I was down. Couldn't say what house it's from.”
“Oh, you get out of here now and then, do you r
“Not often—have another?”
“Thanks, don't care if I do.”
“You see I've got a little schooner of my own, the Estelle,—named her after my wife's sister,—and now and then I take a run down the shore to Saginaw or Port Huron, or somewhere.”
“Do you get much lumber out?”