"
He led the way into the house without knocking.
"And this is Aunt Charette," he volunteered. In the centre of the
spotless fore-room a ponderous woman rocked in her huge chair and
knitted placidly. She was a picture of peaceful prosperity in black silk
gown and gold-bowed spectacles.
"And here's the nature of Aunt Charette's institution." He pointed to an
open cupboard in which there were many bottles.
"Oh! your local liquor agency," hazarded the chairman.
"No, sir! Aunt Charette's own dispensary for the ills of the mind and
fatigues of the body, and run according to my own notions. It beats your
bar and white jackets, Luke, or that solemn farce of cheap liquors and
robber prices of the State agency system. You come in here, if you are
not a drunkard or a minor or a pauper--and Aunt Charette knows 'em
all--and you go to the cupboard and get your drink, or you go out there
in the store-room and get your bottle, and hand the change to Aunt
Charette and walk away. No other rumshop tolerated in the section, and
pocket peddlers run out of town on a rail! No treating, no foolishness,
no fraud.
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