A Five-Bottle Man.

“And, speaking of bottles; the stuff you've been slipping across lately has been pretty ‘pansy’ liquor—a cissy sort of soup. It lacks the kick we Moderns demand in our ceremonial cups. I grant you that it may be Plunketly perfect and saturated with glucose and vitamins A to Z, but it lacks snap—it's deficient in devil. No wonder my five-o-clockers are a flop. From now on dad can have my bottle and I'll have his. Heaven knows, he acts childish enough to take his stimulation in a childish way. How I'm going to live him down I don't know. Honest-to-goodness, mum, you really should have thought of me before you slipped the bracelets on him.”