beverage I don't patronise; it makes a man's hand shaky."

"If that is the case," returned Archer, "you ought to make a point of
drinking it for the good of society, my dear Wilford; let me help you to
a glass."

"Nonsense, Archer, be quiet, man; here, taste this cool bottle, Wilford;
claret's good for nothing if it's at all flat," exclaimed Lawless,
drawing the cork of a fresh magnum as he spoke.

"I differ from you in that opinion, Archer," returned Wilford, fixing
his keen black eyes upon the person he addressed with a piercing glance;
"society is like the wine in this glass," and he filled a bumper to
the brim with claret as he spoke; "it requires a steady hand to keep
it within its proper bounds, and to compel it to preserve an unruffled
surface"; and so saying he raised the glass to his lips without spilling
a drop, still keeping his eyes fixed upon Archer's face with the same
withering glance.

"Well, I have often heard of looking daggers at a person," continued
Archer, who had been drinking somewhat deeply during the evening, and
now appeared possessed by a spirit of mischief leading him to tease and
annoy Wilford in every way he could think of; "but Wilford does
worse, he positively looks pistols--cocked and loaded pistols--at one.
Fairlegh, I shall screen myself behind your broad shoulders; I never
could stand fire." So saying he seized me by the elbows, and, urging me
forward, crouched down behind me, affecting the extremity of terror.

The scowl on Wilford's brow deepened as he spoke, but, after a moment's
hesitation, apparently considering the affair too absurd to take notice
of, he turned away with a contemptuous smile, saying, "You make your
punch too strong, Lawless".

Archer instantly recovered his erect attitude, and with ~167~~a flushed
face seemed about to make some angry reply, when Lawless, who appeared
nervously anxious that the evening should pass over harmoniously,
interposed.

"Archer, you're absolutely incorrigible; keep him in order, Fairlegh,
eh? give him some more punch, and fill your own glass--it has been
empty I don't know how long. I'll find a toast that will make you
drink--bumpers round, gentlemen, 'to the health of the prettiest girl in
Hertfordshire'. Are you all charged? I beg to propose

[Illustration: page167 The Wine Party]

"Excuse my interrupting you, Lawless," exclaimed I--for I felt certain
who it was he was thinking of; and the idea of Miss Saville's name
being