Amyntas looked at him expectantly, and the parson, wondering what he expected, came to the conclusion that it was a glass of port, for at that moment he was able to imagine nothing that man could desire more. He smiled benignly upon Amyntas, and poured him out a glass.
'Drink that, my boy. Keep it in your memory. It's the finest thing in the world. It's port that's made England what she is!'
Amyntas drank the port, but his face did not express due satisfaction.
'Damn the boy!' said the parson. 'Port's wasted on him.'... Then, thinking again what Amyntas might want, he rose slowly from his chair, stretching his legs. 'I'm not so young as I used to be; I get stiff after a day's hunting.' He walked round his room, looking at his bookshelves; at last he picked out a book and blew the dust off the edges. 'Here's a Bible for you, Amyntas. The two finest things in the world are port and the Bible.'
Amyntas thanked him, but without great enthusiasm. Another idea struck the parson, and he shouted out another question.
'Have you any money?'
Amyntas told him of the guinea.
'Damn your father! What's the good of a guinea?' He went to a drawer and pulled out a handful of gold—the tithes had been paid a couple of days before. 'Here are ten; a man can go to hell on ten guineas.'
'Thank you very much, sir,' said Amyntas, pocketing the money, 'but I don't think I want to go quite so far just yet.'
'Then where the devil do you want to go?' shouted the parson.