The “blow-out” was to come off the next night; the last of the young men’s stay at the Corners. Two choice spirits from Rocky Point had been invited and had accepted. Kenneth was also included in the invitations and wanted to decline, but thought better of it, and at eight, the appointed hour, presented himself at the Morris house, where he found the young men in evening dress and looking very different from the tramps his mother had called them when they came from hunting and fishing, in their sweaters and big hats. A caterer had been hired from Millville, with orders to do his best, and the table was laid with handsome linen and china and glasses, three at each plate, showing that the “nips” held out, or more had been bought, and were to form a prominent part of the dinner. There were ten courses, and Pondy, who had insisted upon bearing all the expense and was master of ceremonies, had ordered that they be served very slowly, as he wished the festivities prolonged until after midnight. He was enjoying himself immensely as usual, and for a time kept pretty sober, never even raising his eyebrows, and only saying under his breath to the man on his right hand, “_Chacun a son goût_,” when Kenneth turned down his glass as the wine was offered him. It flowed pretty freely with the others, and by the time the tenth course was served there were plenty of corks and empty bottles lying round, and Pondy could scarcely sit straight in his chair. The caterer had finished his work and was packing his dishes in the kitchen, while one or two waiters lingered in the dining-room, when Pondy, scarcely knowing what he was doing, began: “Ladiesh and shentlemen. No, I meansh shentlemen. We have enshoyed ourshelves immenshly, and now we comsh to the feasth of reashon and flow of—of—What do you call the d—— shtuff?” “Wine,” some one suggested, and he went on: “Yesh, wine; but that don’t sound like it, but wine ish better to drink the healths of our prettiest girl. Doc, you sthart her, and if you don’t like wine, take water, only drink. Here you, waitah, fill high glasch.” “In my profession I see so many pretty girls that I do not like to make a choice, so I pass,” Kenneth said, laughingly. “All right, _Chacun a son goût_ again,” Pondy replied, while the other young men, one after another, gave the name of some girl and drank to her health. “My turn now, and I shall beat the crowd,” Pondy said, rising from his chair, and steadying himself between it and the table. “Get up, pleash,” he continued, “we must drink to her shtanding, and fill to the brim; here, waitah.” The glasses were filled, and the men stood up, the two from Rocky Point holding on to the table, as they were rather shaky by this time. “Now, one, two, three, and here she goesh,” Pondy said, and then rang out loud and clear, “Miss Consthance Elliott.” There was a crash, a broken glass and water spilled over the cloth, while Kenneth’s face was white as death.