When I had stopped coughing I said that I didn't know that there was
anything absolutely wrong with the wine, but you wanted to be ready for
it. It had come on me rather unexpectedly.
Eliza said that very likely that was it, and she asked me if I would
care to finish my glass now that I knew what it was like.
I said that it was not quite a fair test to try a port just after it
had been shaken about. I would let the bottle stand for a day or two.
Ultimately I took what was left in Eliza's glass and my own, and
emptied it into the garden. I did this because I did not want our
general servant to try it when she cleared away, and possibly acquire a
taste for drink.
Next morning I found that two of our best geraniums had died during the
night. I said that it was most inexplicable. Eliza said nothing.
* * * * *
A few nights afterward, Eliza asked me if I thought that the tonic port
had stood long enough.
"Yes," I said; "I will decant it for you, and then if Miss Sakers calls
you might say carelessly that you were just going to have a glass of
port, and would be glad if she would join you."
"No, thank you," she said; "I don't want to deceive Miss Sakers."
"You could mention that it was rich in phosphates. There need be no
deception about it."
"Well, then, I don't want to lose the few friends we've got."
"As you please, Eliza. It seems a pity to waste more than half a bottle
of good wine."
"Bottle of what?"
"You heard what I said."
"Well, drink it yourself, if you like it."
* * * * *
Some weeks afterward I found the bottle of Tarret's Tonic Port still
standing in the sideboard. I gave it to our servant, explaining to her
that it would be best mixed with water. There was still the risk of her
acquiring drinking habits, but I could think of no one else to give it
to. That night Eliza found the girl crying in the kitchen. When Eliza
asked what was the matter, she said that she would rather say nothing,
but that she was wishful to leave at the end of her month.
Of course Eliza blamed me, but I had told the girl as distinctly as I
could speak that it was a wine which required dilution. However, Eliza
persuaded her to stay on. The girl took the pledge on the following
day, and seemed changed in many ways. She put the bottle back in the
sideboard; there was still more than half of it left.
* * * * *
After that nothing happened with reference to the tonic port, until one
day I noticed that our cat (who had recently lost her kittens) seemed
in a poor state of health. I gave it a few spoonfuls of the tonic port
in a little milk. It drank it with avidity, somewhat to my surprise. I
had one or two little things to do in the garden after that, and when I
came back Eliza said that the cat had become so very strange in its
manner that she had thought it best to lock it in the coal-cellar.
I went to look at it, and found it lying on its back, dead. It had a
singularly happy expression on its face. Both Eliza and myself were
very sorry to lose it.
[Illustration: "_It had a singularly happy expression on its face._"]
I judged it best to say nothing about the port. But the bottle had gone
from the sideboard. Eliza said that she had removed it, to prevent
further accidents.
I told the head clerk about it, but he only laughed in the silliest
way. He is a most ill-bred man, in my opinion.