This enjoying himself immensely was his favorite expression, used on all occasions, and to all appearance he did enjoy himself as the days went on, especially after a visit to the cellar and the little nip which he took oftener than his companions thought good for him. “The painting red,” which had been predicted, was mostly done in the house, for as a rule the young men were very quiet outside, especially on the two occasions when they went to the village and sat upon the steps of the hotel, “the dryest place he ever saw,” little Pondy said, after trying the bar and finding nothing stronger than Vichy, Apollinaris and Soda Water. He had ordered ale from Rocky Point, and with this and visits to the cellar, in which his companions sometimes joined, he managed to enjoy himself. There were long drives in the country and sails and fishing on the pond and hunting in the woods, and the young men wore colored shirts and sweaters and big hats, and sometimes had their sleeves rolled up and shirt collars open and looked like anything but swells. Two or three times Mrs. Stannard questioned Tom as to his improvement with Warner’s Cure, and once suggested that he give Kenneth’s pills a trial, or her recipe, which had cured the deacon of the worst kind of kidney trouble. With the utmost gravity Tom assured her that Warner was doing wonders for him, and told her that if there was a drawback he would try her recipe. “Well-mannered young men, if they do look like tramps in their old clothes when they come in from fishin’ and huntin’,” she said to Kenneth, “but I don’t like their smokin’ all the time; why, I’ve actually seen it come out of the parlor winder when they are all at it. ’Tain’t good for ’em, and you or’to tell ’em so.” Kenneth shook his head and said: “Better let the smoke alone. If they do nothing worse than that I shall be glad.” He knew about the boxes in the cellar. The joke was too good for little Pondy to keep, and he had let it out, declaring the fun “immense,” and asking Kenneth to take a “nip” with him. It was not often that Kenneth joined them. He was too busy during the day, and in the evening too tired, he said, when his mother urged him to go over and call. He did go once or twice, and found them playing cards for small stakes, drinking beer and smoking until the room was blue and he could scarcely breathe. They asked him to take a hand and a drink, or a pipe, as he preferred, but he declined all three, and after sitting awhile, took his leave without a very strong invitation to stay from any of the party. “He’s no fun at all; don’t smoke, nor play, nor drink, nor enjoy himself,” Pondy said, after Kenneth had gone, and yet in his little soul he felt how infinitely superior to himself Kenneth was, and much the same feeling permeated the crowd, each one of whom felt under restraint when he was with them, and relieved at his absence.