“Oh, fie!—anything in the way of civility,” replied Smith. “They are, in truth, the best-natured lads alive, when treated respectfully; so that if you would prefer——”
“By no means,” said Ganlesse—“a glass of champagne will serve in a scarcity of better.”
“The cork shall start obsequious to my thumb.”
said Smith; and as he spoke, he untwisted the wire, and the cork struck the roof of the cabin. Each guest took a large rummer glass of the sparkling beverage, which Peveril had judgment and experience enough to pronounce exquisite.
“Give me your hand, sir,” said Smith; “it is the first word of sense you have spoken this evening.”
“Wisdom, sir,” replied Peveril, “is like the best ware in the pedlar’s pack, which he never produces till he knows his customer.”
“Sharp as mustard,” returned the bon vivant; “but be wise, most noble pedlar, and take another rummer of this same flask, which you see I have held in an oblique position for your service—not permitting it to retrograde to the perpendicular. Nay, take it off before the bubble bursts on the rim, and the zest is gone.”
“You do me honour, sir,” said Peveril, taking the second glass. “I wish you a better office than that of my cup-bearer.”
“You cannot wish Will Smith one more congenial to his nature,” said Ganlesse. “Others have a selfish delight in the objects of sense, Will thrives, and is happy by imparting them to his friends.”
“Better help men to pleasures than to pains, Master Ganlesse,” answered Smith, somewhat angrily.