The first house we called at the girls were
sort of demoralized. I don't know as I ever saw a girl drunk, but those
girls acted queer. The callers had stopped coming, and the girls were
drinking something out of shaving cups that looked like lather, and they
said it was 'aignogg.' They laffed and kicked up their heels wuss nor a
circus, and their collars got unpinned, and their faces was red, and they
put their arms around me and my chum and hugged us and asked us if we
didn't want some of the custard. You'd a dide to see me and my chum drink
that lather. It looked just like soap suds with nutmaig in it, but by gosh
it got in its work sudden. At first I was afraid when the girls hugged me,
but after I had drank a couple of shaving cups full of the 'aignogg' I
wasn't afraid no more, and I hugged a girl so hard she catched her breath
and panted and said, 'O, don't.' Then I kissed her, and she is a great big
girl, bigger'n me, but she didn't care. Say, did you ever kiss a girl full
of aignogg? If you did it would break up your grocery business. You would
want to waller in bliss instead of selling mackerel. My chum ain't no
slouch either. He was sitting in a stuffed chair holding another New
Year's girl, and I could hear him kiss her so it sounded like a cutter
scraping on bare ground.
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