The higher the plates were piled the more infectious Cheon's chuckle
became, until nothing short of a national calamity could have checked our
flow of spirits. Mishaps only added to our enjoyment, and when a bottle
of hop-beer went off unexpectedly as the Quiet Stockman was preparing to
open it, and he, with the best intentions in the world, planted his thumb
over the mouth of the bottle, and directed two frothing streams over
himself and the company in general, the delight of every one was
unbounded--a delight intensified a hundredfold by Cheon, who, with his
last doubt removed, danced and gurgled in the background, chuckling in an
ecstasy of joy: "My word, missus! That one beer PLENTY jump up!" As
there were no carpets to spoil, and every one's clothes had been washed
again and again, no one's temper was spoiled, and a clean towel quickly
repairing all damages, our only regret was that a bottle of beer had been
lost.
But the plum-pudding was yet to come, and only Cheon was worthy to carry
it to the feast; and as he came through the leafy way, bearing the huge
mottled ball, as big as a bullock's head--all ablaze with spirits and
dancing light and crowned with mistletoe--it would have been difficult
to say which looked most pleased with itself, Cheon or the pudding; for
each seemed wreathed in triumphant smiles.
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