women, gleefully laughing, hovering about him. The man had arrived at
that stage of drunkenness where affection is felt for the universe.

"I'm good f'ler, girls," he said, convincingly. "I'm damn good f'ler.
An'body treats me right, I allus trea's zem right! See?"

The women nodded their heads approvingly. "To be sure," they cried out
in hearty chorus. "You're the kind of a man we like, Pete. You're
outa sight! What yeh goin' to buy this time, dear?"

"An't'ing yehs wants, damn it," said the man in an abandonment of good
will. His countenance shone with the true spirit of benevolence. He
was in the proper mode of missionaries. He would have fraternized with
obscure Hottentots. And above all, he was overwhelmed in tenderness
for his friends, who were all illustrious.

"An't'ing yehs wants, damn it," repeated he, waving his hands with
beneficent recklessness. "I'm good f'ler, girls, an' if an'body treats
me right I--here," called he through an open door to a waiter, "bring
girls drinks, damn it. What 'ill yehs have, girls? An't'ing yehs
wants, damn it!"

The waiter glanced in with the disgusted look of the man who serves
intoxicants for the man who takes too much of them. He nodded his head
shortly at the order from each individual, and went.

"Damn it," said the man, "we're havin' heluva time. I like you girls!
Damn'd if I don't! Yer right sort! See?"

He spoke at length and with feeling, concerning the excellencies of his
assembled friends.

"Don' try pull man's leg, but have a heluva time! Das right! Das way
teh do! Now, if I sawght yehs tryin' work me fer drinks, wouldn' buy
damn t'ing! But yer right sort, damn it! Yehs know how ter treat a
f'ler, an' I stays by yehs 'til spen' las' cent! Das right! I'm good
f'ler an' I knows when an'body treats me right!"

Between the times of the arrival and departure of the waiter, the man
discoursed to the women on the tender regard he felt for all living
things. He laid stress upon the purity of his motives in all dealings
with men in the world and spoke of the fervor of his friendship for
those who were amiable. Tears welled slowly from his eyes. His voice
quavered when he spoke to them.

Once when the waiter was about to depart with an empty tray, the man
drew a coin from his pocket and held it forth.

"Here," said he, quite magnificently, "here's quar'."

The waiter kept his hands on his tray.

"I don' want yer money," he said.

Th