Wheaton ran away from the livelier spirits of the Knights of Midas, who urged him to join in a celebration at the club after the ball broke up. He pleaded the necessity of early rising and went home and to bed, where, however, he slept little, but lay dreaming over the incidents of the night, particularly those in which he had figured. Many people had congratulated him, and while there was an irony in much of this, as if the whole proceeding were a joke, he had taken it all in the spirit, in which it had been offered. He felt a trifle anxious as to his reception at the breakfast table as he dressed, but his mirror gave him confidence. The night had been an important one for him, and he could afford to bear with his fellows, who would, he knew, spare him no more than they spared any one else in their chaff. They flaunted at him the morning papers with portraits of the king and queen of the ball bracketed together in double column. He took the papers from them as he replied to their ironies, and casually inspected them while the Chinaman brought in his breakfast. "Didn't expect to see you this morning," said Caldwell, the Transcontinental agent, stirring his coffee and winking at Brown, the smelter manager. "You society men are usually shy at breakfast." Wheaton put down his paper carelessly, and spread his napkin. "Oh, a king has to eat," said Brown. "Well," said Wheaton, with an air of relief, "it's worth something to be alive the morning after." But they had no sympathy for him. "Listen to him," said Caldwell derisively, "just as if he didn't wish he could do it all over again to-night." "Not for a million dollars," declared Wheaton, shaking his head dolefully. "Yes," said Captain Wheelock, "I suppose that show last night bored you nearly to death." "I'm always glad to see these fellows sacrifice themselves for the public good," said Brown. "Wheaton's a martyr now, with a nice pink halo." "Well, it doesn't go here," said the army officer severely. "We've got to take him down a peg if he gets too gay." "Why, we've already got one sassiety man in the house," said Caldwell, "and that's hard enough to bear." He referred to Raridan, who was breakfasting in his room. They were addressing one another, rather than Wheaton, whose presence they affected to ignore. "I suppose there'll be no holding him now," said Caldwell. "It's like the taste for strong drink, this society business. They never get over it. It's ruined Raridan; he'd be a good fellow if it wasn't for that." "Humph! you fellows are envious," said Wheaton, with an effort at swagger. "Oh, I don't know!" said Brown, with rising inflection. "I suppose any of us could do it if we'd put up the money." "Well," said Wheaton, "if they let you off as cheaply as they did me, you may call it a bargain." "Oh, he jewed 'em down," persisted Caldwell, explaining to the others, "and he has the cheek to boast of it. I'll see that Margrave hears that."