"I come, not to stultify myself in the fumes of liquor, but to do you good. Beer is brutalizing. With your kind permission, I will whistle you a few verses of a noble poem on same subject." [Illustration: "'I COME NOT TO STULTIFY MYSELF IN THE FUMES OF LIQUOR, BUT TO DO YOU GOOD'"--_Page 89._] "Whistle, Tom?" "The word was whistle," said Kelly sternly. Extending his arm for silence, he proceeded, with great intensity and concentrated facial expression, to whistle a sort of improvisation. Then, suddenly ceasing, he continued: "And what does this beautiful, ennobling little thing teach us, written by a great mind, one of the greatest, greatest minds--what does it teach us?" "Well, what does it teach?" said one or two voices, after Kelly had preserved a statuesque pose beyond the limits of their curiosity. "Ask me," said Kelly, with dignity. "Mr. Kelly," said McNab rising seriously, "what does this little gem of intellectuality, this as it were psycho-therapeutical cirrhosis of a paleontological state,--you get my meaning, of course,--that is, from the point of view of modern introspective excavations, with due regard to whatever the sixth dimension, considered as such, may have of influence, and allowing that a certain amount of error is inherent in Spanish cooking if eggs are boiled in a chafing-dish--admitting all this, I ask you a simple question. Do you understand me?" "Perfectly," said Kelly, who had followed this serious harangue with strained attention. "And, moreover, I agree with you." "You agree?" said McNab, feigning surprise. "I do." "Sir, you are a congenial soul. Shake hands." But, in the act of stealing this sudden friendship, Kelly brought forth his hand, when it was perceived that he was tightly clutching a pool-ball, and, moreover, that his pockets were bulging like a sort of universal mumps with a dozen inexplicable companions. A shout went up: "Why, he's swallowed a frame of pool-balls!" "He certainly has." "He's swiped them." "He's wrecked a pool-room." "How the deuce did he do it?" "Why, Tom, where did you get 'em?" "Testimonial--testimonial of affection," replied Kelly, "literally showered on me." "Tom, you stole them." "I did not steal them!" "Tom, you stole them!" "Tom, O Tom!" Kelly, who had proceeded to empty his pockets for an exhibition, becoming abruptly offended at the universal shouted accusation, repocketed the pool-balls and departed, despite a storm of protest and entreaties, carrying with him McNab. A number of the crowd were passing beyond control; others, inflexible, smiling, continued in their attitude of spectators, Brockhurst because he could not forget himself, Hunter and Bain because they would not. "Time for us to be cutting out," said Hunter, with a glance at his watch. "What about it, Stover?" Dink was annoyed that he had not made the move himself. McCarthy, Hungerford, and one or two of the freshman candidates arose. A shout went up from the noisy end of the table.