He had no appetite for dinner that night--the tea and the sticky cake had done their work; and instead of joining the poker class over Cassidy’s Exchange, he sat down by the fire to brood over the new life that was opening before him. The Society bee--the most malevolent insect in the world’s hive--had stung him under his bonnet, the poison was already in his veins, and when John returned at midnight from the poker meeting his brother addressed him as “deah boy.” Now John Dovetail had always looked after his younger brother with the same solicitude that he would have bestowed upon a helpless child, and to-night there was an anxious look in his face as he seated himself by the open fire and drew from his vest-pocket the cigar which he had won by throwing dice with Cassidy at the Exchange. He was prepared to enjoy himself for a half-hour in that peace of mind which an easy conscience alone can give. His evening had been well spent--thanks to that merciful dispensation which has ordained that even the vilest sinner shall fill a bobtail flush once in a while--and yet, as he sat there before the glowing embers, dark misgivings filled his mind. Older than his brother by fully four years, and of infinitely wider experience and knowledge of the world, he knew only too well the danger that lurked in the leaves of the five-o’clock tea. “Alas!” he said to himself, “I hear that the Swelled Head is very prevalent this winter. It is contagious, and there is no place--not even an amateur theatrical company--where one is so sure to be exposed to it as at a kettledrum. Suppose, after my years of watchful care, my poor brother were to be taken down with it!” * * * * * The weeks rolled on, and Herbert, having once yielded to temptation, soon found it almost impossible to control his appetite for Society functions. Not only had he formed as undesirable a list of acquaintances as he could have made by heading the cotillion for three seasons, but he even had the temerity to tell his brother John--whose life was still one of noble purpose and lofty endeavor--that he wondered how he could spend all his evenings playing poker in the room over Cassidy’s Exchange, instead of-- “Instead of what, Herbert?” demanded John, in clear, ringing accents. “Instead of doing as you have been doing ever since you took your first plunge into the maelstrom of tea and cake and lemonade that is fast whirling you to destruction? No, Herbert, I have watched you day by day, and I have noted the change that has gradually come over you. For weeks past you have been gradually growing apart from me and from your old-time associates, and have affiliated yourself with a class of people who are far beneath you. Where were you last night at the hour when you should have been opening jack-pots in the room over Cassidy’s Exchange? You were up-town skipping the tralaloo.” Herbert started and grew pale. “How did you find that out?” he asked, hoarsely.