Thereat they all took account of their money.  Vandover had fourteen dollars, but he owed for materials at his art dealer’s, and so put away eight of it in an inside pocket.  The others followed his example, each one reserving five dollars for immediate use.

“That will be one dollar for the Hammam,” said Geary, “and four dollars apiece for drinks.  You can get all we want on four dollars.”  They had a last claret-punch and, having settled with Toby, went out.

Coming out into the cold night air from the warm interior of the Imperial affected Vandover and Geary in a few minutes.  But apparently nothing could affect Ellis, neither whisky, claret-punch nor beer.  He walked steadily between Vandover and Geary, linking an arm in each of theirs.

These two became very drunk almost at once.  At every minute Vandover would cry out, “Yee-ee-ow!  Thash way I feel, jush like that.”  Geary made a “Josh” that was a masterpiece, the success of the occasion.  It consisted in exclaiming from time to time, “Cherries are ripe!” This was funny.  It seemed to have some ludicrous, hidden double-meaning that was irresistible.  It stuck to them all the evening; when a girl passed them on Kearney Street and Geary cried out at her that “Cherries were ripe!” it threw them all into spasms of laughter.

They went first to the Palace Garden near the Tivoli Theatre, where Geary and Vandover had beer and Ellis a whisky cocktail.  The performance was just finishing, and they voted that they were not at all amused at a lean, overworked girl whom they saw performing a song and dance through a blue haze of tobacco smoke; so they all exclaimed, “Cherries are ripe!” and tramped out again to visit the Luxembourg.  The beer began to go against Vandover’s stomach by this time, but he forced it down his throat, shutting his eyes.  Then they said they would go to the toughest place in town, “Steve Casey’s”; this was on a side-street.  The walls were covered with yellowed photographs of once-famous pugilists and old-time concert-hall singers.  There was sand on the floor, and in the dancing room at the back, where nobody danced, a jaded young man was banging out polkas and quick-steps at a cheap piano.

At the Crystal Palace, where they all had shandy-gaff, they met one of Ellis’s friends, a young fellow of about twenty.  He was stone deaf, and in consequence had become dumb; but for all that he was very eager to associate with the young men of the city and would not hear of being separated and set apart with the other deaf mutes.  He was very pleased to meet them and joined them at once.  They all knew him pretty well and called him the “Dummy.”

In the course of the evening the patty was seen at nearly every bar and saloon in the neighbourhood of Market and Kearney streets.  Geary and Vandover were very drunk indeed.  Vandover was having a glorious time; he was not silent a minute, talking, laughing, and singing, and crying out continually, “Cherries are ripe!” When he could think of nothing else to say he would exclaim, “Yee-ee-ow!  Thash way I feel.”