“—­I don’t care what the colonel says; if he wants to know why, tell him I ordered it.  I’m not going to have this night spoiled by any tomfoolery of Talbot’s, I don’t care what he says.  You hear me, Alec?  Not a drop.  Take out those half-empty bowls and don’t you serve another thimbleful of anything until I say so.”  Here he turned to the young doctor, who seemed rather surprised at St. George’s dictatorial air—­one rarely seen in him.  “Yes—­brutal, I know, Teackle, and perhaps a little ill-mannered, this interfering with another man’s hospitality, but if you knew how Kate has suffered over this same stupidity you would say I was right.  Talbot never thinks—­never cares.  Because he’s got a head as steady as a town clock and can put away a bottle of port without winking an eyelid, he believes anybody else can do the same.  I tell you this sort of thing has got to stop or sooner or later these young bloods will break the hearts of half the girls in town. ...  Careful! here comes Willits—­not another word. ...  Oh, Mr. Willits, here you are!  I was just going to send for you.  I want to talk to you about that mare of yours—­is she still for sale?” His nonchalance was delightful.

“No, Mr. Temple; I had thought of keeping her, sir,” the young man rejoined blandly, greatly flattered at having been specially singled out by the distinguished Mr. Temple.  “But if you are thinking of buying my mare, I should be most delighted to consider it.  If you will permit me—­I will call upon you in the morning.”  This last came with elaborate effusiveness.  “But you haven’t a drop of anything to drink, Mr. Temple, nor you either, doctor!  Egad!  What am I thinking of!  Come, won’t you join me?  The colonel’s mixtures are—­”

“Better wait, Mr. Willits,” interrupted St. George calmly and with the air of one conversant with the resources of the house.  “Alec has just taken out a half-emptied bowl of toddy.”  He had seen at a glance that Teackle’s diagnosis of the young man’s condition was correct.

“Then let us have a swig at the colonel’s port—­it’s the best in the county.”

“No, hold on till the punch comes.  You young fellows don’t know how to take care of your stomachs.  You ought to stick to your tipple as you do to your sweetheart—­you should only have one.”

“—­At a time,” laughed Teackle.

“No, one all the time, you dog!  When I was your age, Mr. Willits, if I drank Madeira I continued to drink Madeira, not to mix it up with everything on the table.”

“By Jove, you’re right, Mr. Temple!  I’m sticking to one girl—­Miss Kate’s my girl to-night.  I’m going to dance the Virginia reel with her.”

St. George eyed him steadily.  He saw that the liquor had already reached his head or he would not have spoken of Kate as he did.  “Your choice is most admirable, Mr. Willits,” he said suavely, “but let Harry have Miss Kate to-night,” adding, as he laid his hand confidingly on the young man’s shoulder—­“they were made to step that dance together.”