“Charlie's going in for sanctity, and it doesn't seem to agree with him,” laughed one of the two other young men who occupied several chairs apiece, resting their soles in every sense of the word. “Apron strings are coming into fashion the bluer the better hey, Prince?” added the other, trying to be witty, with the usual success. “You'd better go home early yourself, Barrow, or that tongue of yours will get you into trouble,” retorted Charlie, conscious that he ought to take his own advice, yet lingering, nervously putting on his gloves while the glasses were being filled. “Now, brother-in-law, fire away! Here you are, Prince.” And Steve handed a glass across the table to his cousin, feeling too much elated with various pleasurable emotions to think what he was doing, for the boys all knew Charlie's weakness and usually tried to defend him from it. Before the glass could be taken, however, Mac entered in a great hurry, delivering his message in an abbreviated and rather peremptory form: “Rose is waiting for you. Hurry up!” “All right. Good night, old fellows!” And Charlie was off, as if the name had power to stop him in the very act of breaking the promise made to himself. “Come, Solon, take a social drop, and give us an epithalamium in your best Greek. Here's to you!” And Steve was lifting the wine to his own lips when Mac knocked the glass out of his hand with a flash of the eye that caused his brother to stare at him with his mouth open in an imbecile sort of way, which seemed to excite Mac still more, for, turning to his young host, he said, in a low voice, and with a look that made the gentlemen on the chairs sit up suddenly: “I beg pardon, Van, for making a mess, but I can't stand by and see my own brother tempt another man beyond his strength or make a brute of himself. That's plain English, but I can't help speaking out, for I know not one of you would willingly hurt Charlie, and you will if you don't let him alone.” “What do you pitch into me for? I've done nothing. A fellow must be civil in his own house, mustn't he?” asked Van good-humoredly as he faced about, corkscrew in hand. “Yes, but it is not civil to urge or joke a guest into doing what you know and he knows is bad for him. That's only a glass of wine to you, but it is perdition to Charlie, and if Steve knew what he was about, he'd cut his right hand off before he'd offer it.” “Do you mean to say I'm tipsy?” demanded Steve, ruffling up like a little gamecock, for though he saw now what he had done and was ashamed of it, he hated to have Mac air his peculiar notions before other people.