"Yes, we shall come to that; but, in order to make you understand it better, I must carry my experiment a little further. In this decanter I have what is called whiskey. I pour some of it into the water. Now it is more usual to put the whiskey in first, and the water afterwards. Can you tell me why that is so? Think it out for yourselves." And Uncle WILLIAM smiled genially.
There was silence for a few moments. Then little SARAH said, timidly: "I think it must be because, when a man wishes to drink, whiskey is the first thing which naturally occurs to his mind. He does not think about water until afterwards."
"Quite right. That is the explanation of the scientists. And why do you think I put in the water first and the whiskey afterwards?"
"It was," said CHARLIE, brightly, "in order that we might not see so exactly how much whiskey you took."
"No, that's quite wrong. I did it out of sheer originality. Now what would happen if I drank this curious mixture?"
"You would be breaking the pledge, Uncle WILLIAM," said both children, promptly and heartily.
"Wrong again. I should be acting under doctor's orders."
"Why hasn't a brick any fluidity?" asked SARAH, patiently.
"Don't interrupt, my dear child. We're coming to that. Now, CHARLIE, when you eat or drink anything, where does it go?"
"It goes into my little—oh, no, Uncle, I cannot say that word," and CHARLIE, who was of a singularly modest and refined disposition, buried his face in his hands, and blushed deeply.