"Thank you, ma'am; that will do."
When the bell rang again, and the time came to produce the second
course of cheese and celery, the landlady allowed the waiter to take
her place. Her experience of the farmers who frequented the inn, and
who had in some few cases been induced to taste the wine, warned her to
anticipate an outbreak of just anger from Mr. Mountjoy. He, like the
others, would probably ask what she "meant by poisoning him with such
stuff as that." On the return of the waiter, she put the question: "Did
the gentleman complain of the French wine?"
"He wants to see you about it, ma'am."
The landlady turned pale. The expression of Mr. Mountjoy's indignation
was evidently reserved for the mistress of the house. "Did he swear,"
she asked, "when he tasted it?"
"Lord bless you, ma'am, no! Drank it out of a tumbler, and--if you will
believe me--actually seemed to like it."
The landlady recovered her colour. Gratitude to Providence for having
sent a customer to the inn, who could drink sour wine without
discovering it, was the uppermost feeling in her ample bosom as she
entered the private room. Mr. Mountjoy justified her anticipations. He
was simple enough--with his tumbler before him, and the wine as it were
under his nose--to begin with an apology.
"I am sorry to trouble you, ma'am. May I ask where you got this wine?"
"The wine, sir, was one of my late husband's bad debts. It was all he
could get from a Frenchman who owed him money."
"It's worth money, ma'am."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Yes, indeed. This is some of the finest and purest claret that I have
tasted for many a long day past."
An alarming suspicion disturbed the serenity of the landlady's mind.
Was his extraordinary opinion of the wine sincere? Or was it Mr.
Mountjoy's wicked design to entrap her into praising her claret and
then to imply that she was a cheat by declaring what he really thought
of it? She took refuge in a cautious reply: "You are the first gentleman, sir, who has not found fault with it."
"In that case, perhaps you would like to get rid of the wine?" Mr.
Mountjoy suggested.
The landlady was still cautious. "Who will buy it of me, sir?"
"I will. How much do you charge for it by the bottle?"
It was, by this time, clear that he was not mischievous--only a little
crazy. The worldly-wise hostess took advantage of that circumstance to
double the price. Without hesitation, she said: "Five shillings a
bottle, sir."