"And
to think av his bein' propped up at his own gate by a lousy, frog-eatin'
half Frinchman, half salvage!" Yet, when investigated, this proved to be
the case, and the further question arose, where did McGann get his
whiskey? A faithful, loyal devoted old servitor was McGann, yet Webb, as
we have seen, had ever to watch his whiskey carefully lest the Irishman
should see it, and seeing taste, and tasting fall. The store had orders
from Mrs. McGann, countersigned by Webb, to the effect that her husband
was never to have a drop. Flint was a teetotaller himself, and noted
without a shadow of disapprobation that the decanters on the sideboard
were both empty the very day he took possession, also that the cupboard
was securely locked. Mrs. McGann was sure her liege got no liquor there
nor at the store, and his confused statement that it was given him by
"fellers at the stables," was treated with scorn. McGann then was still
under marital surveillance and official displeasure the day after Mrs.
McGann's revelations, with unexplained iniquities to answer for when his
head cleared and his legs resumed their functions. But by that time
other matters were brought to light that laid still further accusation
at his door.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231