Mr Dedalus dropped his coattails and went over to the sideboard. He brought forth a great stone jar of whisky from the locker and filled the decanter slowly, bending now and then to see how much he had poured in. Then replacing the jar in the locker he poured a little of the whisky into two glasses, added a little water and came back with them to the fireplace.
----A thimbleful, John, he said, just to whet your appetite.
Mr Casey took the glass, drank, and placed it near him on the mantelpiece. Then he said:
----Well, I can't help thinking of our friend Christopher manufacturing...
He broke into a fit of laughter and coughing and added:
----...manufacturing that champagne for those fellows.
Mr Dedalus laughed loudly.
----Is it Christy? he said. There's more cunning in one of those warts on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes.
He inclined his head, closed his eyes, and, licking his lips profusely, began to speak with the voice of the hotelkeeper.
----And he has such a soft mouth when he's speaking to you, don't you know. He's very moist and watery about the dewlaps, God bless him.
Mr Casey was still struggling through his fit of coughing and laughter. Stephen, seeing and hearing the hotelkeeper through his father's face and voice, laughed.
Mr Dedalus put up his eyeglass and, staring down at him, said quietly and kindly:
----What are you laughing at, you little puppy, you?
The servants entered and placed the dishes on the table. Mr. Dedalus followed and the places were arranged.