"Carte blanche--yes," went on Clancy, "and I callate the old fizzy stuff's the thing to do justice to this fe-lic-i-tous oc-ca-sion. Do I hear the voice of my shipmates? Aye, aye, I hear them--and in accents unmistakable. Well, here's a shoot--six quarts level--and a few pieces of ice floating around on top. My soul, but don't it look fine and rich? Have a look, everybody."
"Let's have a drink instead," hollered Parsons.
Clancy paid no attention to that. "Who was the lad in that Greek bunch in the old days that they sank up to his neck in the lake--cold sparkling water--and peaches and oranges and grapes floating on a little raft close by--but him fixed so he couldn't bend his head down to get a drink nor lift his head to take a bite of fruit--and hot weather all the time, mind you. Lord
