58
tumbled on his brow so that Sarah’s heart suddenly yearned to him.
“Fetch us down a couple o' glasses, Sarah” he shouted and drew a
half-pint of whiskey from his pocket. He set the bottle down with
a thump among the tea-things and little trills of laughter ran through
him as he peered at the bright amber liquor. Then he raised it between
his eyes end the lamp. Shaken thus, the liquid released whorls of
light that rose slowly up the bottle melting and reforming again in
spirals and flecks of golden fire. The light penetrating the liquid
cast an aureate glow on the drunken face held close to the bottle.
He sucked a great breath into his mouth. "God, but its a wonderful
lovely thing” he said. The sober awe in his voice startled and
shocked Sarah. "Ye drunken crature" she cried "did ye ask Agnes tae
get the groceries?" He stared at her dumb and outraged, then waved her
impatiently aside. He turned to his brother. Hami, will ye have a
wee drop?" There was a pleading note in his voice. Hamilton shook
his head without looking up. “Noan for me” he mumbled.
The young man stared angrily at the other two bent over their
plates. The cork squealed as he drew it from the bottle. Still they
did not look up. He tilted the bottle over his cup and looked at them
again. Their heads were low over their plates and their lips were
scarcely moving. To his drunken mind they seemed to be saying grace.
He drove the cork back again with his fist and set it down with a crash
on the dresser. His actions were wanton, violent; he wanted the others
to look up and speak to him. The meal finished in silence and towards
the end of it Hamilton stole a glance at his brother. His face was
sober and sullenly turned away. He looked at the bottle on the dresser.
