"My dear sir," said he, "I beg of you to remain, not as a source for our merriment, but as the chief guest of honor. I believe you have won that place."
I turned to Miss Berkeley. "Do you bid me remain?"
Silence.
I placed my hand on the back of my chair, preparatory to sliding it from under me. She stayed me.
"Do not go,"—softly. "I haven't had my revenge."
I sat down. I was curious to learn what color this revenge was going to take. "Mr. Ainsworth, my compliments!"—raising my glass, being very careful not to touch the contents.
"Bully!" cried my host, thumping the table with his fist. "James, a dozen bottles of '96. There's a gentleman,"—nodding to those nearest him; "you can tell 'em a mile off. A little shy of strangers," humorously falling into horse-talk, "but he's money coming down the home-stretch."
Then everybody began to talk at once, and I knew that the dinner proper was on the way.
"Aren't you just a little above such escapades as this?" I asked of the girl.
"Do not make me any more uncomfortable than I am," she begged. "But having gone into it I had too much courage to back down."