“Are you thirsty, you?” the man asked, in the same fierce short way, after returning his look.

“Why nat’rally,” said Mr. Riderhood, “ain’t I always thirsty!” (Indignant at the absurdity of the question.)

“What will you drink?” demanded the man.

“Sherry wine,” returned Mr. Riderhood, in the same sharp tone, “if you’re capable of it.”

The man put his hand in his pocket, took out half a sovereign, and begged the favour of Miss Pleasant that she would fetch a bottle. “With the cork undrawn,” he added, emphatically, looking at her father.