"Not get it for you, dear?"
"Doused me with cold water," said the young lady, pouting.
"Doused you!" Mrs. Beguile looked at the pink draperies, which gave no sign of such heroic treatment; then she turned to Magnus.
"I am trying to take care of her, Mrs. Beguile," Magnus said.
The good lady looked at him,—the clean, clear face, the bright eyes; looked across to the great punch bowl, where the ladling and quaffing went ceaselessly on, her own boys among the crowd, and a shadow fell on her placid face.
"Do you drink nothing but water yourself, Mr. Kindred?"
"Nothing, ma'am."
"Not even punch?"
"No, ma'am."
Another look went across the room, and then Mrs. Beguile said with a half sigh: