“Who’s asking to have drink there?” said Mackenzie. “You’re not asking now, but maybe you will. I won’t have it, that’s all.” “That shall be all right, John,” said Mrs. Grimes, nodding her head. “Women are that soft,--in the way of judgment,--that they’ll go and do a’most anything, good or bad, when they’ve got their feelings up.” Such was the only rebuke which in our hearing Mr. Grimes administered to his pretty wife. Mackenzie whispered something to the publican, but Grimes only shook his head. We understood it all thoroughly. He did not like the scheme, but he would not contradict his wife in an act of real kindness. We then made an appointment with the scholar for meeting our friend and his future patron at our rooms, and took our leave of the Spotted Dog. Before we went, however, Mrs. Grimes insisted on producing some cherry-bounce, as she called it, which, after sundry refusals on our part, was brought in on a small round shining tray, in a little bottle covered all over with gold sprigs, with four tiny glasses similarly ornamented. Mrs. Grimes poured out the liquor, using a very sparing hand when she came to the glass which was intended for herself. We find it, as a rule, easier to talk with the Grimeses of the world than to eat with them or to drink with them. When the glass was handed to us we did not know whether or no we were expected to say something. We waited, however, till Mr. Grimes and Mackenzie had been provided with their glasses. “Proud to see you at the Spotted Dog, Mr. ----,” said Grimes. “That we are,” said Mrs. Grimes, smiling at us over her almost imperceptible drop of drink. Julius Mackenzie just bobbed his head, and swallowed the cordial at a gulp,--as a dog does a lump of meat, leaving the impression on his friends around him that he has not got from it half the enjoyment which it might have given him had he been a little more patient in the process. I could not but think that had Mackenzie allowed the cherry-bounce to trickle a little in his palate, as I did myself, it would have gratified him more than it did in being chucked down his throat with all the impetus which his elbow could give to the glass. “That’s tidy tipple,” said Mr. Grimes, winking his eye. We acknowledged that it was tidy. “My mother made it, as used to keep the Pig and Magpie, at Colchester,” said Mrs. Grimes. In this way we learned a good deal of Mrs. Grimes’s history. Her very earliest years had been passed among wild Indians.