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- Возвращение на родину
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”
Wildeve
made
no
reply
;
and
probably
feeling
that
the
sooner
he
treated
them
the
sooner
they
would
go
,
he
produced
a
stone
jar
,
which
threw
a
warm
halo
over
matters
at
once
.
“
That
’
s
a
drop
of
the
right
sort
,
I
can
see
,
”
said
Grandfer
Cantle
,
with
the
air
of
a
man
too
well
-
mannered
to
show
any
hurry
to
taste
it
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Wildeve
,
“
’
tis
some
old
mead
.
I
hope
you
will
like
it
.
”
“
O
ay
!
”
replied
the
guests
,
in
the
hearty
tones
natural
when
the
words
demanded
by
politeness
coincide
with
those
of
deepest
feeling
.
“
There
isn
’
t
a
prettier
drink
under
the
sun
.
”
“
I
’
ll
take
my
oath
there
isn
’
t
,
”
added
Grandfer
Cantle
.
“
All
that
can
be
said
against
mead
is
that
’
tis
rather
heady
,
and
apt
to
lie
about
a
man
a
good
while
.
But
tomorrow
’
s
Sunday
,
thank
God
.
”
“
I
feel
’
d
for
all
the
world
like
some
bold
soldier
after
I
had
had
some
once
,
”
said
Christian
.
“
You
shall
feel
so
again
,
”
said
Wildeve
,
with
condescension
,
“
Cups
or
glasses
,
gentlemen
?
”
“
Well
,
if
you
don
’
t
mind
,
we
’
ll
have
the
beaker
,
and
pass
’
en
round
;
’
tis
better
than
heling
it
out
in
dribbles
.
”
“
Jown
the
slippery
glasses
,
”
said
Grandfer
Cantle
.
“
What
’
s
the
good
of
a
thing
that
you
can
’
t
put
down
in
the
ashes
to
warm
,
hey
,
neighbours
;
that
’
s
what
I
ask
?
”
