foot, to a bottle o' ginger-ale. For shame, lad--t'
come t' such a pass." He was honest in his expostulation; 'twas no
laughing matter--'twas an anxiously grave concern for my welfare. He
disapproved of the beverage--having never tasted it. "_You_," cries
he, with a pout and puff of scorn, "an' your bilge-water! In irons
with a bottle o' ginger-ale! Could ye but see yourself, Dannie, ye'd
quit quick enough. 'Tis a ridiculous picture ye make--you an' your
bottle. 'Twould not be hard t' give it up, lad," he would plead.
"Ye'll manage it, Dannie, an ye'd but put your mind to it. Ye'd be
nervous, I've no doubt, for a spell. But what's that? Eh, what's
that--ag'in your health?"

I would sip my ginger-ale unheeding.

"An' what about Chesterfield?" says he.

"I'll have another bottle, sir," says I.

"Lord love us!" he would complain, in such distress that I wish I had
not troubled him with this passion. "Ye're fair bound t' ruin your
constitution with drink."

Pop went the cork.

"An' here's _me_" says he, in disgusted chagrin, "tryin' t' make a
gentleman out o' ye!"

Ah, well! 'twas now a mean, poor lookout for the cosey conviviality I
had all my life promised myself with my uncle. Since the years when
late o' nights I occupied the arms and broad knee of Cap'n Jack Large
at the Anchor and Chain--with a steaming comfort within and a rainy
wind blowing outside--my uncle and I had dwelt upon the time when I
might drink hard liquor with him like a man. 'Twould be grand, says my
uncle, to sit o' cold nights, when I was got big, with a bottle o'
Long Tom between. A man grown--a man grown able for his bottle! For
him, I fancy, 'twas a vision of successful achievement and the reward
of it. Lord love us! says he, but the talk o' them times would be
lovely. The very thought of it, says he--the thought o' Dannie
Callaway grown big and manly and helpfully companionable--fair warmed
him with delight. But now, at Twist Tickle, with the strong, sly hands
of Judith upon our ways, with her grave eyes watching, now commending,
now reproaching, 'twas a new future that confronted us. Ay, but that
maid, dwelling responsibly with us men, touched us closely with
control! 'Twas a sharp eye here, a sly eye there, a word, a twitch of
her red lips, a lift of the brow and dark lashes--and a new ordering
of our lives. 'Tis marvellous how she did it: but that she managed us
into better habits, by the magic mysteriously natural to a maid, I
have