“Clear the decks,” said Jack Ginger to Jerry Gallagher. “Gentlemen, I did not think of getting pastry, or puddings, or dessert, or ices, or jellies, or blancmange, or anything of the sort, for men of sense like you.”
We all unanimously expressed our indignation at being supposed even for a moment guilty of any such weakness; but a general suspicion seemed to arise among us that a dram might not be rejected with the same marked scorn. Jack Ginger accordingly uncorked one of Bob Burke’s bottles. Whop! went the cork, and the potteen soon was seen meandering round the table.
“For my part,” said Antony Harrison, “I take this dram because I ate pork, and fear it might disagree with me.”
“I take it,” said Bob Burke, “chiefly by reason of the fish.”
“I take it,” said Joe Macgillicuddy, “because the day was warm, and it is very close in these chambers.”
“I take it,” said Tom Meggot, “because I have been very chilly all the day.”
“I take it,” said Humpy Harlow, “because it is such strange weather that one does not know what to do.”
“I take it,” said Jack Ginger, “because the rest of the company takes it.”
“And I take it,” said I, winding up the conversation, “because I like a dram.”
So we all took it for one reason or another—and there was an end of that.