“Whew! some bitter!” he exclaimed, making a wry face.
“Good for you, old chap!” and the Judge laughed outright at this act of real heroism. “Now that you’ve proved you can do it, follow it up with the other cup, that you’ll enjoy.”
“No sir—ee! I’ve begun to do the c’rect thing, an’ I’m goin to stick to it!”
“Oh, pshaw, don’t deprive yourself of a little pleasure. That good cup of coffee, fixed just to your taste, will be wasted if you don’t drink it.”
“No, sir, I’m in fer the manners today. Maybe I won’t keep it up, but this is me day fer bein’ a gentleman, let it rain ebber so hard!” With a merry smile in his blue eyes, Fibsy stood his ground, and then in another moment, looked crestfallen and sheepish, as finger bowls were brought.
“That gets my goat!” he confided to his host. “Say, Judge, put me wise.”
“Very well, Terence, simply do as I do.”
Fibsy watched carefully, though unostentatiously, and when the judge had finished, the boy gave a perfect imitation of the man’s correct and graceful motions.
Before the finger-bowls came, the waiter had taken up Fibsy’s large cup of coffee to remove it. But with a longing glance, the boy had said, “Say, can’t I keep that after all, Judge?”
“Certainly,” Judge Hoyt had replied. But now, after the new glory of cleansed finger-tips, again Fibsy renounced the temptation, and said, “Nope, if I’m goin’ to learn to be a swell, I gotter learn to say no.” And without even a backward glance at the coffee, he followed the judge from the dining room.