“There is but the one glass, sir,” said Donald, who had picked up something of the notions of gentlefolks, “but I will just tek the bottle;” and so, to avoid drinking out of the same glass (which was rather a small one), he was good enough to take a pull, and a strong pull, at the black bottle. Then he heaved a sigh, and wiped the top of the bottle with his sleeve. “Yes, as I was saying, sir, there was none of the gentlemen I hef effer seen in Tarbert will keep at the pentin so long ass you; and many of them will be stronger ass you, and will be more accustomed to it whatever. But when a man is making money—” and Donald shook his head: he knew it was useless to argue.
“But I am not making money, Donald,” Lavender said, still looking a trifle pale. “I doubt whether I have made as much as you have since I came to Tarbert.”
“Oh, yes,” said Donald contentedly, “all the gentlemen will say that. They never hef any money. But wass you ever with them when they could not get a dram because they had no money to pay for it?”
Donald’s test of impecuniosity could not be gainsaid. Lavender laughed, and bade him get back into the other boat.
“ ‘Deed I will not,” said Donald, sturdily.
Lavender stared at him.
“Oh, no; you wass doing quite enough the day already, or you would not hef tumbled into the boat whatever. And supposing that you was to hef tumbled into the water, you would have been trooned as sure as you wass alive.”
“And a good job, too, Donald,” said the younger man idly looking at the lapping green water.
Donald shook his head gravely: “You would not say that if you had friends of yours that was trooned, and if you had seen them when they went down in the water.”
“They say it is an easy death, Donald.”