I had no other friend.
Twelve dozen of splendid Burgundy were the fruit of our tour, to be laid down at Dipwell farm for my arrival at my majority, when I should be a legal man, embarked in my own ship, as my father said.

I did not taste the wine.

'Porter for me that day, please God!' cried Mrs.Waddy, who did.

My father eyed her with pity, and ordered her to send the wine down to Dipwell, which was done.

He took me between his knees, and said impressively, 'Now, Richie, twelve dozen of the best that man can drink await you at the gates of manhood.