Now, while it is true that the ladies, “one and all,” had spoken with entire enthusiasm of their afternoon at the unpretentious home of my neighbor, I, nevertheless, deemed it vital to hold plain speech with that impulsive woman immediately.  I saw, indeed, that I should have acted after the incident of the mint juleps.

Solon Denney, who had experienced the hospitality of Miss Caroline, and who could speak from a wider knowledge than our minister or the ladies of the town, had once said:—­

“Those mint juleps are simple, honest things.  They taste injurious from the start.  But that punch—­it’s hypocritical.  It steals into your brain as a little child steals its rosebud hand into yours, beguiling you with prattle; but afterwards—­well, if I had the choice, I’d rather be chloroformed and struck sharply with an axe.  I’d be my old self again sooner.”  Whereupon he would have written a guarded piece for the paper about this had I not dissuaded him.  But I saw that I must at once have with Miss Caroline what in a later day came to be called “a heart-to-heart talk”; and I forthwith summoned what valor I could for the ordeal.

“I never dreamed—­I never suspected—­how should I?” she murmured pathetically, after my opening speech of a few simple but telling phrases.  She listened in genuine horror while I gave the reasons why she might justly regard the call of our minister and her entertainment of the Club as nothing short of adventures—­adventures which she had survived scathless not but by the favor of an indulgent Providence.

“So that is what those little white satin bows mean?” she asked, and I said that it most emphatically was.

“I suspected it might be some kind of mourning for babies—­a local custom, you know, though it did seem queer.  What can they think of me?”

“They don’t know what to think now,” I said, “and if you are wise, you will never let them know.”

“The Colonel was proud of that punch,” she mused.

“I dare say he had reasons,” I answered grimly.

“Especially after Cousin Looshe Peavey came to spend Christmas with us one time.  The Colonel had always considered Cousin Looshe rather arrogant about this punch, and it may have been a special brew.  I know that Cousin had an immense respect for it after he was able—­that is—­afterwards—­”

“I can easily believe it.”

“Cherry brandy—­Jamaica rum—­pint of Madeira—­gill of port—­a bit of cordial—­some sherry—­I forget if there’s anything else.”

I grasped the chair in which I sat.

“Heaven forbid!” I cried; “and don’t tell me, anyway—­I’m reeling now.”

“But of course there are lemons and oranges and cherries and tea and quantities of ice to weaken it—­”

“The whole frozen polar sea itself couldn’t weaken that mixture of elemental forces.  See to it,” I went on sternly, “that you remember only the innocent parts of it if you are ever asked for the recipe.”  She actually cowered.