"Ha! ha!" echoed Smith, taking another bumper of brandy; "he'll set the Thames on fire one of these days, I'll warrant him!"
"That's more than you'll ever do, you drunken fool!" growled Jackson, in an under tone: "be cautious, or you'll spoil all!"
"Suppose we send for a bowl of punch," said Kneebone.
"With all my heart!" replied Wood. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone.
Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. The tables were then cleared. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. Pipes were lighted; and Mr. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid; begging Mrs. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud.
"The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper.
"You don't say so!" replied Mrs. Wood, delighted at the idea.
Mr. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table.
Mr. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following
DRINKING SONG.