No! We have made Mr.
Dyceworthy our slave; we have conquered him; we have abased him! He is
what we please,--he is for all gods or for no god,--just as we pull the
string! In plain words, _mon cher_, that amiable religious is drunk!"
"Drunk!" cried Errington and Lorimer together. "Jove! you don't mean
it?"
Macfarlane looked up with a twinkle of satirical humor in his deep-set
grey eyes.
"Ye see," he said seriously, "the Lacrima, or Papist wine as he calls
it, was strong--we got him to take a good dose o't--a vera feir dose
indeed. Then, doun he sat, an' fell to convairsing vera pheelosophically
o' mony things,--it wad hae done ye gude to hear him,--he was fair lost
in the mazes o' his metapheesics, for twa flies took a bit saunter
through the pleasant dewy lanes o' his forehead, an' he never raised a
finger to send them awa' aboot their beeziness. Then I thoet I wad try
him wi' the whusky--I had ma pocket flask wi' me--an' O mon! he was
sairly glad and gratefu' for the first snack o't! He said it was
deevilish fine stuff, an' so he took ane drappikie, an' anither
drappikie, and yet anither drappikie,"--Sandy's accent got more and more
pronounced as he went on--"an' after a bit, his heed dropt doun, an' he
took a wee snoozle of a minute or twa,--then he woke up in a' his
strength an' just grappit the flask in his twa hands an' took the hale
o't off at a grand, rousin' gulp! Ma certes! after it ye shuld ha' seen
him laughin' like a feckless fule, an' rubbin' an' rubbin' his heed,
till his hair was like the straw kicked roond by a mad coo!"
Lorimer lay back in the stern of the boat and laughed uproariously at
this extraordinary picture, as did the others.
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