The drink she held up for purposes of illustration was not infinitesimal. Mrs. Torrence said that everyone must have a highball and proceeded to prepare a drink for Thomas and Whitford. “You and Connie are certainly the solemn owls,” she remarked to Bruce. “Anyone would have thought you were holding a funeral in here. Say when, Fred. This is real Bourbon that Jim had for years. You’ll never see anything like it.” “Bruce,” cried Henderson, “has Connie filled you with gloom? She gets that way sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything. A little of this stuff will set you up. This bird, Storrs, always did have glass legs,” he explained to Thomas; “he can drink gallons and be ready to converse with bishops. Never saw such a capacity! If I get a few more Maybelle will certainly hand it to me when I get home.” Constance walked round the table to Leila, who had drunk a glass of the Bourbon to sample it and, satisfied of its quality, was now preparing a highball. “No more, Leila!” said Constance, in a low tone. The girl drew back defiantly. “Go away, Connie! I need just one more.” “You had more than you needed at the Burtons’. Please, Leila, be sensible. Helen, send the tray away.” “Leila’s all right!” said Thomas, but at a sign from Mrs. Torrence he picked up the tray and carried it out. “I don’t think it pretty to treat me as though I were shot when I’m not,” said Leila petulantly. She walked to the end of the room and sat down with the injured air of a rebellious child. “Leila, do you know what time it is?” demanded Constance. “Your father’s having a dinner and you’ve got to be there.” “I’m going to be there! There’s loads of time. Everybody sit down and be comfortable!” Leila composedly sipped her glass as though to set an example to the others. Thomas had come back and Constance said a few words to him in a low tone. “Oh, shucks! I know what you’re saying. Connie’s telling you to take me home,” said Leila. She turned her wrist to look at her watch--frowned in the effort of focusing upon it and added with a shrug: “There’s all the time in the world. If you people think you can scare me you’ve got another guess coming. It’s just ten minutes of six; dinner’s at seven-thirty! I’ve got to rest a little. You all look so ridiculous standing there glaring at me. I’m no white mouse with pink eyes!” “Really, dear,” said Mrs. Torrence coaxingly, walking toward Leila with her hands outstretched much as though she were trying to make friends with a reluctant puppy. “Do run along home like a good girl!” Leila apparently had no intention of running along home like a good little girl. She dropped her glass--empty--and without warning caught the astounded lady tightly about the neck.