Mrs.Montague had indeed cooked up something else, and had done it well; while Mr.Montague offered at the sideboard a choice of amateur distillations and brews which he warmly recommended to the guest.

While the guest timidly considered, having had but the slightest experience with intoxicants, it developed that the confidence placed in his product by the hospitable old craftsman was not shared by his daughter.
"Keep off it," she warned, and then to her father, "Say, listen, Pa, have a heart; that boy's got to work to-morrow." "So be it, my child," replied Mr.Montague with a visible stiffening of manner.

"Sylvester Montague is not the man to urge strong drink upon the reluctant or the over-cautious.

I shall drink my aperatif alone." "Go to it, old Pippin," rejoined his daughter as she vanished to the kitchen.
"Still, a little dish of liquor at this hour," continued the host suggestively when they were alone.
"Well"-- Merton wished the girl had stayed--"perhaps just a few drops." "Precisely, my boy, precisely.

A mere dram." He poured the mere dram and his guest drank.