a sudden freedom from restraint.

Mr. Terriberry filled a glass to the brim and executed a notable bow as
he handed it to her.

"To the fairest of the fair," said Mr. Terriberry gallantly, protruding
his upper lip over the edge of his glass something in the manner of a
horse gathering in the last oat in his box.

Dr. Harpe raised her glass to arms' length and cried exultantly--

"To my Supreme Moment!"

Mr. Terriberry, who had closed his eyes while the cooling beverage
flowed down his throat, opened them again.

"Huh?"

Again she swung her glass above her head and shrilled--

"My Supreme Moment--drink to it if you're a friend of mine!"

"Frien' of yours? Frien' of yours! Why, Doc, I'd die fer you. But that's
all same Ogollalah Sioux 'bout your S'preme Moment! Many of 'em, Doc,
many of 'em, and here's t'you!"

They drained their glasses together.

"Always liked you, Doc. H'nest t'God, from the first minute I laid eyes
on you." Mr. Terriberry reached for her fan dangling from the end of its
chain and began to fan her with tender solicitude.

"Come on, let's have another drink; I don't cut loose often." Her eyes
and voice were reckless.

"Me and you don't want to go out of here with our ropes draggin',"
protested Mr. Terriberry in feeble hesitation. "Let's go out on the
porch fer a minute an' look at the meller moon."

"Meller moon _nothin_'! Come on, don't be a piker." She was ladling
punch into each of their glasses.

"Ah-h-h! Ain't that great cough mixture!" Mr. Terriberry rolled his eyes
in ecstasy as he once more saw the bottom of his glass. "Doc, 'bout one
more and me and you couldn't hit the groun' with our hats." Mr.
Terriberry speared a bit of pineapple with the long nail of his
forefinger and added ambiguously: "M'bet you."

"Aw, g'long! Food for infants, this--wish I had a barrel of it."

"Doc, you got a nawful capac'ty." Mr. Terriberry looked at her in
languishing admiration. "That's why I like you. Honest t'God I hate to
see a lady go under the table firs' shot out o' the box. Now my
wife,"--suddenly remembering the existence of that lady Mr. Terriberry
tiptoed to the door and endeavored to locate her--"my wife," he
continued in a confidential whisper, "can't take two drinks t'hout
showing it. Doc,"--Mr. Terriberry's chin quivered as the pathos of the
fact swept over him--"Doc, Merta's no sport." Mr. Terriberry buried his
face in his highly perfumed handkerchief as he confessed his wife's