Nearly Lost but Dearly Won | Page 6

tray, but he waved it off with an imperious gesture of his hand,
and did not vouchsafe a word.
The more boisterous party in the other room now became conscious of
the presence of the wine and negus, and rushed in, surrounding the
maid who was bringing in a fresh supply. Mark was at the head of them,
and tossed down two glasses in rapid succession. The rest clamoured
for the strong drink with eager hands and outstretched arms. "Give me
some, give me some," was uttered on all sides. Self reigned paramount.
Mr Tankardew's tall form rose high above the edge of the struggling
crowd, which he had approached.
"Poor things, poor things, poor things!" he said gloomily.
"A pleasant sight, these little ones enjoying themselves," said Mr
Rothwell, coming up.

Mr Tankardew seemed scarcely to hear him, and returned to his place
by Mrs Franklin.
"Enjoying themselves!" he exclaimed, in an undertone, "call it
pampering the flesh, killing the soul, and courting the devil."
"Rather hard upon the poor dear children," laughingly remarked a lady,
who overheard him: "why, surely you wouldn't deny them, their share
of the enjoyment of God's good creatures?"
"God's good creatures, madam! Are the wine and negus God's good
creatures?"
"Certainly they are," was the reply: "God has permitted man to
manufacture them out of the fruits of the earth, and to make them the
means of pleasurable excitement, and therefore surely we may take
them and give them as His good creatures."
Mr Tankardew made no answer, but striding up to Mary, where she sat
with a circle of little interesting faces round her, eagerly intent on some
simple story she was telling them, he said, "Miss Franklin, will you
favour me by bringing me a few of your young friends here. There,
now, my dear," (speaking to one of the little girls), "just hand me that
empty negus glass." The child did so, and Mr Tankardew, producing
from his coat pocket a considerable sized bottle, turned to the lady who
had addressed him, and said:
"Madam, will you help me to dispense some of the contents of this
bottle to these little children?"
"Gladly," she replied. "I suppose it is something very good, such as
little folks like."
"It is one of God's good creatures, madam:" saying which, he turned
towards the other's astonished gaze the broad label on which was
printed in great black letters, "Laudanum--Poison."
"My dear sir, what do you mean?"

"I mean, madam, that the liquid in this bottle is made from the poppy,
which is one of the fruits of the earth; therefore it is one of God's good
creatures, just as the wine and negus are. It produces very pleasurable
sensations, too, if you take it, just as they do; therefore it is right to
indulge in it, and give it to others, just as it is right for the same reasons
to indulge in wine and negus and spirits, and to give them to others."
"I really don't understand you, sir."
"Don't you, madam? I think you won't be able to pick a hole in my
argument."
"Ah! But this liquid is poison!"
"So is alcohol, madam, only it is not labelled so: more's the pity, for it
has killed thousands and tens of thousands, where laudanum has only
killed units. There, my child," he added, turning to Mary, and taking an
elegant little packet from his pocket, "give these bonbons to the little
ones. I didn't mean to disappoint them."
While this dialogue was going on, the rest of the party was too full of
noisy mirth to notice what was passing. Mark's voice was getting very
wild and conspicuous; and now he made his way with flushed face and
sparkling eyes to Mary, who was sitting quietly between her mother
and Mr Tankardew. He carried a jug in one hand, and a glass in the
other, and, without noticing the elder people, exclaimed, "It is an hour
yet to supper time, and you'll be dead with thirst; I am sure I am. You
must take some of this, it is capital stuff; our butler made it: I have just
had a tumbler--it is punch. Come, Mary, you must," and he thrust the
glass into her hand: "you must, I say; you shall; never mind old Tanky,"
he added, in what he meant to be a whisper. Then he raised the jug with
unsteady fingers, but, before a drop could reach the tumbler, Mr
Tankardew had risen, and with one sweep of his hand dashed it out of
Mary's grasp on the ground. Few heard the crash, amidst the din of the
general merriment, and those who noticed it supposed it to be an
accident. "Nearly lost!" whispered Mr Tankardew in Mary's ear; then
he