Page:Firecrackers a realistic novel.pdf/172

 Yes, I think so. Mr. Humphry Pollanger's face was the façade of his delight. No one had ever before paid him so much attention.

They all took a sip.

Um.

Um.

Um.

Um.

George, come here.

Laura's husband attached himself to the group.

Marvellous.

Delicious.

Exquise.

An expression of doubt shadowed the face of Mr. Humphry Pollanger. He held the carafe at arm's length between his eyes and a lamp. Then he sniffed at the unstopped neck. I'm not so sure. . . he explained hesitantly. There were two carafes on the shelf. One of them certainly contains 1804 brandy. The other holds some whisky left over from our bootlegger's latest call.

Don't worry, old chap. Jack gave his unrecognized host a slap on the shoulder. Can't you tell brandy when you drink it? Cognac, fine champagne, that's what it is!

I'm not so sure. . . I think this is the whisky!

Of course, this is brandy, George asserted.

Paul executed a few steps of the Charleston while Mr. Pollanger made another hurried journey to his store of supplies. Presently he returned with a