"Where you goin', Dannie?" says my uncle, his voice all at once vacant
of cheerfulness.
"To the pantry, sir," I answered.
"Ah!" says he. "Is it ginger-ale, Dannie?"
"No, sir."
"That's good," says he, blankly; "that's very good. For Judy," he
added, "is fell into the habit o' tipplin' by day, an' the ginger-ale
is all runned out."