"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 game-cock; 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. "With excitement, not champagne, I hope; for I wouldn't own you if you were," answered Mac, in whom indignation was effervescing like the wine in the forgotten bottle; for the men were all young, friends of Steve's and admirers of Charlie's. "Look here, boys," he went on more quietly: "I know I ought not to explode in this violent sort of way, but upon my life I couldn't help it, when I heard what you were saying and saw what Steve was doing. Since I _have_ begun I may as well finish, and tell you straight out that Prince can't stand this sort of thing. He is trying to flee temptation, and whoever leads him into it does a cowardly and sinful act; for the loss of one's own self-respect is bad enough, without losing the more precious things that make life worth having. Don't tell him I've said this, but lend a hand if you can, and never have to reproach yourselves with the knowledge that you helped to ruin a fellow-creature, soul and body." It was well for the success of Mac's first crusade, that his hearers were gentlemen and sober: so his outburst was not received with jeers or laughter, but listened to in silence, while the expression of the faces changed from one of surprise to regret and respect; for earnestness is always effective, and championship of this sort seldom fails to touch hearts as yet unspoiled. As he paused with an eloquent little quiver in his eager voice, Van corked the bottle at a blow, threw down the corkscrew, and offered Mac his hand, saying heartily, in spite of his slang,-- "You are a first-class old brick! I'll lend a hand for one, and do my best to back up Charlie; for he's the finest fellow I know, and shan't go to the devil like poor Randal if _I_ can help it." Murmurs of applause from the others seemed to express a general assent to this vigorous statement; and, giving the hand a grateful shake, Mac retreated to the door, anxious to be off now that he had freed his mind with such unusual impetuosity. "Count on me for any thing I can do in return for this, Van. I'm sorry to be such a marplot, but you can take it out in quizzing me after I'm gone. I'm fair game, and Steve can set you going." With that, Mac departed as abruptly as he came, feeling that he _had_ "made a mess" of it; but comforting himself with the thought that perhaps he had secured help for Charlie at his own expense, and thinking with a droll smile as he went back to his mother,--