Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. "Well, Colonel
Blount," said he, "in our family we used to have an old silver mug--
sort of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it--been
in the family for years. Now, you take a mug like that, and let it
lie in the ice-box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort
of got a white frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take
this mug and put some fine ice into it,--not too fine. Then he'd take
a little cut loaf sugar, in another glass, and he'd mash it up in a
little water--not too much water--then he'd pour that in over the
ice. Then he would pour some good corn whisky in till all the
interstices of that ice were filled plumb up; then he'd put some
mint--"

"Didn't smash the mint? Say, he didn't smash the mint, did he?" said
Colonel Blount, eagerly, hitching over toward the speaker.

"Smash it? I should say not, sir! Sometimes, at certain seasons of
the mint, he might just sort of take a twist at the leaf, to sort of
release a little of the flavor, you know. You don't want to be rough
with mint. Just twist it gently between the thumb and finger. Then
you set it in nicely around the edge of the glass. Sometimes just a
little powder of fine sugar around on top of the mint leaves, and
then--"

"Sir," said Colonel Blount, gravely rising and taking off his hat,
"you are welcome to my home!"

Eddring, with equal courtesy, arose and removed his own hat.