"Prussic acid," replied Mr. Thorneycroft gruffly.
"Proossic fiddlestick!" cried Ginger; "more likely Tokay. I shall finish the bottle, and never be the vorse for it!"
"He's gettin' svipy," said the Tinker. "I vonder vether it's really Tokay?"
"No such thing," cried Thorneycroft; "let him alone."
"I must taste it," said the Tinker, unable to resist the temptation. "Here, give us a glass, Ginger!"
"Vith pleasure," replied Ginger, filling a goblet to the brim, and handing it to him. "You'd better be perwailed upon, Sandy."
"Vell, I s'pose I must," replied the Sandman, taking the goblet proffered him.
"Here's the beaks' healths!" cried Ginger. "I gives that toast 'cos they're alvays so kind to us dog-fanciers."
"Dog-fanciers—say, rather, dog-stealers; for that's the name such vagabonds deserve to be known by," said Mr. Thorneycroft with some asperity.
"Vell, ve von't quarrel about names," replied Ginger, laughing, "but I'll relate a circumstance to you as'll prove that wotever your opinion of our wocation may be, the beaks upholds it."