Page:The wrong box (IA wrongbox00stevrich).pdf/161

 been wet through the greater part of the day, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir—hot Scotch.'

And taking his friend's arm he led him sternly towards the nearest public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent skittishness began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when he touched his steaming glass to Michael's, he giggled aloud like a venturesome school-girl at a picnic.