You couldn't blame 'em! It was the
best stuff I ever tasted!"
"Margaret," said Wesley, "run 'phone that doctor he won't be needed.
Billy, take Elnora and Mr. Ammon to see the bugs. Katharine, suppose you
help me a minute."
Wesley took the clothes basket from the back porch and started in the
direction of the cellar. Margaret returned from the telephone.
"I just caught him," she said. "There's that much saved. Why Wesley,
what are you going to do?"
"You go sit on the front porch a little while," said Wesley. "You will
feel better if you don't see this."
"Wesley," cried Margaret aghast. "Some of that wine is ten years old.
There are days and days of hard work in it, and I couldn't say how much
sugar. Dr. Ammon keeps people alive with it when nothing else will stay
on their stomachs."
"Let 'em die, then!" said Wesley. "You heard the boy, didn't you?"
"It's a cold process. There's not a particle of fermentation about it."
"Not a particle of fermentation! Great day, Margaret! Look at those
pigs!"
Margaret took a long look. "Leave me a few bottles for mince-meat," she
wavered.
"Not a smell for any use on this earth! You heard the boy! He shan't
say, when he grows to manhood, that he learned to like it here!"
Wesley threw away the wine, Mrs. Comstock cheerfully assisting. Then
they walked to the woods to see and learn about the wonderful insects.
The day ended with a big supper at Sintons', and then they went to the
Comstock cabin for a concert.
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