Ah, thank God!" He went into a corner on the left of the fireplace, opened an old jar, thrust his arm down, and drew out a squat little bottle of cordial.

The bottle was beautifully made.

It was round and hunched, and of glass, with an old label from which the writing had faded.
With eyes bright now, Christopher uncorked the bottle and smelled the contents.

As he did so, a smile crinkled his face.
"Thank the Lord! There's enough for the two of ye--two fine tablespoonfuls of the cordial that'd do anny man good, no matter how bad he was, and turn an angel of a woman into an archangel.

Bless yer Bowl!" When Christopher turned to lift down two pewter pots, Calhoun reached up swiftly and took them from the shelf.