I'll drink the wine for you if you like. I see no harm in that.
I'll drink it reverently too--I don't want to hurt your feelings.
But you can't expect me to take it for granted that it ain't nothin'
else but what it is--just the juice out of the grape, don't yer know.
You see, I know what I'm talking about. I'm a chauffeur now, but I
used to be in a brewery--see?"
"Thank you," said Mr. Bishop bitterly, sarcastically; "but you can
be of no service to me." He retired, closing the door and saying
"Thank you" again, in the same tone of voice.
When he found himself alone once more in the vestry he took another
sip of wine. The sentiments which that man had expressed were half
rankling in his mind. They made him feel careless, reckless. He did
not really think of what he was doing. He took another sip--it was
most palatable--and another--it was certainly very good to the taste.
With the little food that he had taken that day, he felt it warm within
him. It was considerably more than half-finished now. He waited again,
and really he felt no bad effects.
Once more he looked at his watch. They were actually sitting down
to dinner now. He walked down the floor of the vestry and back again,
and his steps were quite steady; so he took another sip.
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