s
symmetry destroyed by just one mouthful, and the crimson blood rolled to
his very forehead. His confusion was too apparent and continued to admit
of being overlooked, and Mr. Stephens asked, with a mixture of curiosity
and anxiety:

"What is the trouble, Mallery?"

"Mr. Stephens," said Theodore, earnestly with just a little tremble of
pain in his voice, "you have made me disregard for the first time in my
life the only prayer that my mother ever prayed for me."

Mr. Stephens, who knew the story of his life, looked bewildered and
troubled, and said gently; "I don't understand, Theodore;" while Mr.
Ryan's eyes had the roguish twinkle in them again, because he did
understand.

Theodore silently inclined his head toward the rejected plate.

"Oh," said Mr. Stephens, looking relieved, "do you object to the wine
jelly? Why, my dear boy, isn't that almost straining a point? I don't
understand the art of interfering with cookery."

"This is an excellent opportunity for me," began Mr. Ryan. "I've been
wishing enlightenment for a long time on an abstruse question connected
with the temperance theory. Mr. Mallery, you are a stanch upholder of
the cause, I believe. May I question you?"

Theodore had regained his composure, and was quietly sipping his coffee.

"You may, sir, certainly," he said, playfully. "I believe nothing is
easier than to ask questions. Whether I can answer them or not is, of
course, another matter."

Mr. Ryan laughed.

"But you used to be, or that is--well, something leads me to think that
you are one of the Bible temperance men. Are you not?"

Theodore fixed a pair of full, earnest, unashamed eyes on the
questioner's face before he said:

"Yes, sir, I entirely agree with Habakkuk on that subject to-day as in
the past."

"Well then," said Mr. Ryan, dashing into the subject, "I'm in need of
enlightenment. Isn't there a story in the Bible about a certain wedding,
at which our Savior countenanced the use of wine not only by his
presence, but by actually furnishing the wine itself by his own
miraculous power?"

"There _is_ such a story," said Theodore, continuing to quietly sip his
coffee.

"Well, how do you account for it?"

"I suppose, sir, you know how great and good men account for it?"
questioned Theodore.

"Oh yes, I know the story by heart, about two kinds of wine--one
intoxicating, the other _not_, and that this wine at the marriage feast
was of the non-intoxicating sort; but that a