“But surely that seems to indicate,” I said, “that they have been used for other and less innocent beverages.”
He hung his head, and as my glance swept his companions, I observed that most of them hung theirs also.
Then he lifted it again, not without a certain honesty.
“Mr. Carp,” he said, “it’s no use deceiving you. And I’m afraid I must confess that I haven’t confined myself to such health-giving drinks as this Portugalade.”
“Nor we,” said his companions. “Nor we.”
“But we hope to do better,” said Miss Moonbeam, “in the future.”
“Then, ladies and gentlemen,” I said, sipping the Portugalade, which seemed to me exceptionally agreeable, “I can only implore you—and I speak not only for myself but for my friend Mr. Stool——”
“Of the Adult Gripe Water,” said Ezekiel. “It was invented by my late father.”
“You don’t say so?” said the naval officer.
“Was that what made him late?” asked Miss Moonbeam.