however, it was in sanguine mood that I went to bed that night of our opening day. The money was locked away, ready for me to take to the bank next morning--our first deposit. Before that I must be at the market to buy provisions--six o'clock--and Kay was to be in attendance in the bars at nine-thirty.
"It's a go all right," were his good-night words, as he thumped down my private staircase and let himself into the street with his latch-key.
Lucky beggar! He hadn't got to write home and explain to evangelical and teetotal parents what he was doing!
Some customers, I discovered, arrived early. That a man should want to swallow raw spirits at 9 A.M. amazed me. Some of these were men we knew socially; with one of them, who arrived regularly at 9.15, I often dined in his cosy little bungalow beside the lake. His wife was charming, I played with his children. He was a lawyer. He came for what he called an "eye-opener." Another of this early brigade was a stockbroker, who later made a fortune speculating in wheat on margin, lost it again, and disappeared mysteriously across the border into the States. His manner of taking his "eye-opener" was peculiar, puzzling me for a long time. I had never seen it before. It made me laugh heartily the first morning, for I thought he was doing it to amuse me--till his injured expression corrected me. Producing a long silk handkerchief, he flung it round his neck, one end held by the hand that also held his brimming glass. With the free hand he then pulled the other end very slowly round his collar, levering thus the shaking glass to his lips. Unless he used this pulley, the glass shook and rattled so violently against his teeth that its contents would be spilt before he could get it into his mouth. The horror of it suddenly dawned on me. I was appalled. The stuff that poisoned this nervous wreck was sold by myself and partner at 100 per cent. profit!
"If he doesn't get it here," said Kay, "he'll go to Tim Sullivan's across the way, and get bad liquor. Ours
at least is pure."
