Mr. Quigg nodded, and said, "Of course," as if he had often heard of
such instances, and there was nothing surprising in them. He then
abruptly cut off the Captain's political reminiscences, by unlocking the
store and entering it. After a few minutes' absence, he returned with a
half-gallon jug and a tin dipper.

"A nice, fat little feller," rapturously exclaimed Captain Tonkins,
taking the proffered jug. Placing it in the bottom of the sleigh, where
such of the public as were stirring in that vicinity could not see the
operation, he half filled the tin dipper, and, raising it suddenly to
his mouth, drank the contents with a double gulp. "Prime stuff, that,"
said the Captain, smacking his lips. "A hogshead of it would make a
school commissioner, an alderman, mebbe a major of you, Quigg."

"I dare say," said Quigg. "But what would a dull, practical fellow like
me be good for in public life?" This was Quigg's habitual way of
depreciating himself, and it always impressed the hearer with a sense of
Quigg's eminent ability.

Quigg then drew a pair of yellow gloves on his large, hairy hands,
slightly ripping the two thumbs and most of the fingers in the
operation, took a seat in the double sleigh, and proclaimed himself
ready to start.



CHAPTER V.

PLEASURE AS BUSINESS.