As for Talleyrand Penrod himself,
he was going to dance that cotillon with Marjorie Jones!
"You can have all you can drink at one pull, M'rice," said Penrod
kindly.
"You said I could have all I want!" protested Maurice, reaching for the
bottle.
"No, I didn't," returned Penrod quickly, holding it away from the eager
hand.
"He did, too! Didn't he, Sam?"
Sam could not reply; his eyes, fixed upon the bottle, protruded
strangely.
"You heard him--didn't you, Sam?"
"Well, if I did say it I didn't mean it!" said Penrod hastily, quoting
from one of the authorities. "Looky here, M'rice," he continued,
assuming a more placative and reasoning tone, "that wouldn't be fair to
us. I guess we want some of our own lickrish water, don't we? The bottle
ain't much over two-thirds full anyway. What I meant was, you can have
all you can drink at one pull."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, this way: you can gulp all you want, so long as you keep
swallering; but you can't take the bottle out of your mouth and commence
again. Soon's you quit swallering it's Sam's turn."
"No; you can have next, Penrod," said Sam.
"Well, anyway, I mean M'rice has to give the bottle up the minute he
stops swallering."
Craft appeared upon the face of Maurice, like a poster pasted on a wall.
"I can drink so long I don't stop swallering?"
"Yes; that's it."
"All right!" he cried. "Gimme the bottle!"
And Penrod placed it in his hand.
"You promise to let me drink until I quit swallering?" Maurice insisted.
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