“Of course I will.” He had brought the bottle in; he took her glass to the table.
“Not quite so strong as last time, please. Pretty strong, but not so strong as that.”
“This all right?”
“A little more whiskey, please.”
“Certainly.”
“That looks all right.”
“You all right, Poll?” her father asked. “Isn’t going to your head too much?”
“It isn’t going anywhere so far as I can tell.”
“Good enough.”
“I think perhaps it would be best if we didn’t-prolong the discussion any further tonight,” Catherine said, in her most genteel manner; and she patted Mary’s knee.
They looked at her with astonishment and suddenly Mary and then Andrew began to laugh, and then Hannah began to laugh, and Joel said, “What’s up? What’s all the hee-hawing about?”
“It’s Mama,” Andrew shouted joyfully, and he and Hannah explained how she had suggested, in her most ladylike way, that they adjourn the discussion for the evening when all they were discussing was how much whiskey Mary could stand, and it was as if she meant that Mary was much too thirsty to wait out any more of it; and Joel gave a snort of amusement and then was caught into the contagion of this somewhat hysterical laughter, and they all roared, laughing their heads off, while Catherine sat there watching them, disapproving such levity at such a time, and unhappily suspecting that for some reason they were laughing at her; but in courtesy and reproof, and an expectation of hearing the joke, smiling and lifting her trumpet. But they paid no attention to her; they scarcely seemed to know she was there. They would quiet down now and then and moan and breathe
