“Yes.”

“Bravo for Henry!  I like that.  But what will people say, my dear?  I don’t want to become a laughing stock.”

“I’d rather have other people laugh at me for doing right,” said Mrs. Eldridge, “than to have my conscience blame me for doing wrong.”

“Must we give the party?” asked Mr. Eldridge, who did not feel much inclined to brave public opinion.

“I don’t see that we can well avoid doing so.  Parties will be given, and as Fanny is our niece, it will look like a slight towards her if we hold back.  No, she must have a party; and as I am resolved to exclude liquor, we must come in first.  Who knows but all the rest may follow our example.”

“Don’t flatter yourself on any such result.  We shall stand alone, you may depend upon it.”

The evening of the party came and a large company assembled at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Eldridge.  At eleven o’clock they passed to the supper-room.  On this time the thoughts of the host and hostess had passed, ever and anon, during the whole evening, and not without many misgivings as to the effect their entertainment would produce on the minds of the company.  Mr. Eldridge was particularly nervous on the subject.  There were several gentlemen present whom he knew to be lovers of good wine; gentlemen at whose houses he had often been entertained, and never without the exhilarating glass.  How would they feel?  What would they think?  What would they say?  These questions fairly haunted him; and he regretted, over and over again, that he had yielded to his wife and excluded the liquors.

But there was no holding back now; the die was cast, and they must stand to the issue.  Mr. Eldridge tried to speak pleasantly to the lady on his arm, as he ascended to the supper-room; but the words came heavily from his tongue, for his heart was dying in him.  Soon the company were around the table, and eyes, critical in such matters, taking hurried inventories of what it contained.  Setting aside the wine and brandy, the entertainment was of the most liberal character, and the whole arrangement extremely elegant.  At each end of the table stood a large coffee-urn, surrounded with cups, the meaning of which was not long a mystery to the company.  After the terrapin, oysters, salad, and their accompaniments, Mr. Eldridge said to a lady, in a half-hesitating voice, as if he were almost ashamed to ask the question,—­

“Will you have a cup of coffee?”

“If you please,” was the smiling answer.  “Nothing would suit me better.”

“Delicious!” Mr. Eldridge heard one of the gentlemen, of whom he stood most in dread, say.  “This is indeed a treat.  I wouldn’t give such a cup of coffee for the best glass of wine you could bring me.”

“I am glad you are pleased,” Mr. Eldridge could not help remarking, as he turned to the gentleman.

“You couldn’t have pleased me better,” was replied.