"You shouldn't do it, you know," he said, with mild reproof; "you really shouldn't."
"Do it!" the Captain cried. "Do what?"
Julia looked up from the floor where she knelt trimming the stove-lamp. "Have five whiskeys and sodas," she said, examining her father judicially.
He did not deny the charge; Julia's observation was not to be avoided.
"And what is five?" he demanded with dignity.
"Three too many for you," she answered.
"Do you mean to insinuate that I am intoxicated?" he asked. "Johnny," he turned pathetically to his friend, "my own daughter insinuates that I am intoxicated."
"No," Julia said, "I don't; I say it does not agree with you, and it doesn't—you know you ought not to take more than two glasses."
"Is that your opinion, Gillat?" Captain Polkington asked. "Is that what you meant? That I—I should confine myself to two glasses of whiskey and water?"
"I wasn't thinking of the whiskey," Johnny said apologetically; "it was the gees."