Of my Incarceration in the Jug
him return; and in he comes with a rush, his long legs flying, and a parcel of bottles under his arms.
“They keep a close watch upon you, to-night, my poor Ryder,” he says, “but I have explained unto the jigger-dubbers as we must spend the evening together for spiritual consolation and advice,” and he cackled with laughter.
But at the sight of the bottles I was well-nigh losing my head for the first time, and, paying no heed to him, “Let me have ’em,” says I eagerly.
The Ordinary drew himself up and put a finger to his nose. “Softly, softly, Captain,” said he, “’tis my privilege as the superior and your ghostly comforter to make the experiment first.” So saying, he sat down upon the floor a long way from me, and deliberately selecting a bottle knocked the neck off it with extraordinary neatness. At this my heart was in my mouth for a moment, but the next second I knew ’twas all right, for tipping the edges against his lips the Ordinary drank and gurgled
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