“It’s glad I am you are home,” he said simply.
There was a scraping noise on the back porch. Poor Pork, trained for forty years to clean hisshoes before entering the house, did not forget, even in a time like this. He came in, carefullycarrying two gourds, and the strong smell of dripping spirits entered before him.
“Ah spilt a plen’y, Miss Scarlett. It’s pow’ful hard ter po’ outer a bung hole inter a go’de.”
“That’s quite all right, Pork, and thank you.&rdquoa police shieldcould hold me upside down and drainmy gutschange your mind; She took the wet gourd dipper from him, hernostrils wrinkling in distaste at the reek.
“Drink this, Father,” she said, pushing the whisky in its strange receptacle into his hand andtaking the second gourd of water from Pork. Gerald raised it, obedient as a child, and gulpednoisily. She handed the water to him but he shook his head.
As she took the whisky from him and held it to her mouth, she saw his eyes follow her, a vaguestirring of disapproval in them.
“I know no lady drinks spirits,” she said briefly. “But today I’m no lady, Pa, and there is work todo tonight.”
She tilted the dipper, drew a deep breath and drank swiftly. The hot liquid burned down herthroat to her stomach, choking her and bringing tears to her eyes. She drew another breath andraised it again.
“Katie Scarlett,” said Gerald, the first note of authority she had heard in his voice since herreturn, “that is enough. You’re not knowing spirits and they will be making you tipsy.”
“Tipsy?” She laughed an ugly laugh. “Tipsy? I hope it makes me drunk. I would like to be drunkand forget all of this.”
She drank again, a slow train of warmth lighting in her veins and stealing through her body. What a blessed feeling, this kindly fire. It seemed to penetrate even herice-locked heart and strength came coursing back into her body.’ Seeing Gerald’s puzzled hurtface, she patted his knee again and managed an imitation of the pert smile he used to love.