" On the return of the waiter, she put the question: "Did
the gentleman complain of the French wine?"
"He wants to see you about it, ma'am."
The landlady turned pale. The expression of Mr. Mountjoy's indignation
was evidently reserved for the mistress of the house. "Did he swear,"
she asked, "when he tasted it?"
"Lord bless you, ma'am, no! Drank it out of a tumbler, and--if you will
believe me--actually seemed to like it."
The landlady recovered her colour. Gratitude to Providence for having
sent a customer to the inn, who could drink sour wine without
discovering it, was the uppermost feeling in her ample bosom as she
entered the private room. Mr. Mountjoy justified her anticipations. He
was simple enough--with his tumbler before him, and the wine as it were
under his nose--to begin with an apology.
"I am sorry to trouble you, ma'am. May I ask where you got this wine?"
"The wine, sir, was one of my late husband's bad debts. It was all he
could get from a Frenchman who owed him money."
"It's worth money, ma'am."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Yes, indeed. This is some of the finest and purest claret that I have
tasted for many a long day past."
An alarming suspicion disturbed the serenity of the landlady's mind.
Pages:
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78