“Well, Mrs. Munger, I'm glad I got back in time to tell you how much I've enjoyed it. Brother Peck wanted me to go home, but I told him, Not till I've thanked Mrs. Munger, Brother Peck; not till I've drunk her health in her own old particular Jamaica.” He put to his lips the black bottle which he had been holding in his right hand behind him; then he took it away, looked at it, and flung it rolling-along the piazza floor. “Didn't get hold of the inexhaustible bottle that time; never do. But it's a good article; a better article than you used to sell on the sly, Bill Gerrish. You'll excuse my helping myself, Mrs. Munger; I knew you'd want me to. Well, it's been a great occasion, Mrs. Munger.” He winked at the hostess. “You've had your little invited supper, after all. You're a manager, Mrs. Munger. You've made even the wrath of Brother Peck to praise you.” The ladies involuntarily shrank backward as Putney suddenly entered through the window and gained the corner of the piano at a dash. He stayed himself against it, slightly swaying, and turned his flaming eyes from one to another, as if questioning whom he should attack next. Except for the wild look in them, which was not so much wilder than they wore in all times of excitement, and an occasional halt at a difficult word, he gave no sign of being drunk. The liquor had as yet merely intensified him. Mrs. Munger had the inspiration to treat him as one caresses a dangerous lunatic. “I'm sure you're very kind, Mr. Putney, to come back. Do sit down!” “Why?” demanded Putney. “Everybody else standing.” “That's true,” said Mrs. Munger. “I'm sure I don't know why--” “Oh yes, you do, Mrs. Munger. It's because they want to have a good view of a man who's made a fool of himself--” “Oh, now, Mr. _Putney_!” said Mrs. Munger, with hospitable deprecation. “I'm sure no one wants to do anything of the kind.” She looked round at the company for corroboration, but no one cared to attract Putney's attention by any sound or sign. “But I'll tell you what,” said Putney, with a savage burst, “that a woman who puts hell-fire before a poor devil who can't keep out of it when he sees it, is better worth looking at.” “Mr. Putney, I assure you,” said Mrs. Munger, “that it was the _mildest_ punch! And I really didn't think--I didn't remember--”