The young man, himself, here expressed his wants.
“See here!” he said in a half–whisper, leaning forward. “Where’s that big bottle Baggs keeps on the upper shelf, generally behind a bundle of yarn?”
As he leaned forward, Walter noticed by his breath that he had been drinking an intoxicant of some kind. He noticed also that the little girl in the rear was now tugging at his coat, as if to pull him back from an exposed position. Did the child say, “Don’t!”
“Go way, Amy! Don’t pull so!” exclaimed the young man rather testily. Still he did not look round at this interferer, and he did not even glance at Walter. His eager eyes were fastened on those generally uninteresting objects, soap, yarn, and matches. Surely, there could be no snake’s eye up there to bewilder one.
“Ah, I see the top of it! Just above that big lot of yarn on the third shelf. That’s how I made my mistake—I was looking at the second shelf, you see, and—and it’s the third—don’t Amy! Keep quiet, Amy! There, if you’ll just get that down! A—my, stop!”
Was it a big sob, Walter heard behind this customer? The young man’s look was no more eager now than Walter’s. The desire to know, was as strong in the latter, as appetite was in the former, and Walter had now mounted a rickety, flag–bottomed chair, and was pulling aside the packages on the shelves. Reaching a big bundle of yarn on the uppermost shelf, he saw the object of the young man’s intense desire; an immense black bottle with an immense black stopper.
“There—there she is! Just hand her down; and if you have any water handy, I’ll mix it myself, you know. Amy, you stop pulling, or I’ll send you outdoors.”
The young man’s voice, though earnest, was not cross. Indeed, he had endured a constant twitching from his small companion.
“Just hand her down, please.”
“Well, no, I think not, if it is liquor,” was Walter’s reply.