Spraggon wants a little.'
'Dursn't disturb him, sir,' responded Spigot, with a shake of his head;
'much as my place, sir, is worth, sir.'
'Haven't you a little drop in your pantry, think you?' asked Sponge.
'The _cook_ perhaps has,' replied Mr. Spigot, as if it was quite out of his
line.
'Well, go and ask her,' said Sponge; 'and bring some hot water and things,
the same as we had last night, you know.'
Mr. Spigot retired, and presently returned, bearing a tray with
three-quarters of a bottle of brandy, which he impressed upon their minds
was the 'cook's _own_.'
'I dare say,' hiccuped Jack, holding the bottle up to the light.
'Hope she wasn't using it herself,' observed Sponge.
'Tell her we'll (hiccup) her health,' hiccuped Jack, pouring a liberal
potation into his tumbler.
'That'll be all you'll _do_, I dare say,' muttered Spigot to himself, as he
sauntered back to his pantry.
'Does Jaw stand smoking?' asked Jack, as Spigot disappeared.
'Oh, I should think so,' replied Sponge; 'a friend like you, I'm sure,
would be welcome'--Sponge thinking to indulge in a cigar, and lay the blame
on Jack.
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