"Then bring it in. I appoint Wilmot and Burgess to lend you the necessary aid."
A large flagon of hot whiskey punch was brought in and placed on a table. Glasses were produced from a closet in the corner of the room, and it was served out to the members.
"How do you like it, Roswell?" inquired Ralph Graham.
"It's—rather strong," said Roswell, coughing.
"Oh, you'll soon be used to it. The fellows will begin to be jolly after they've drunk a glass or two."
"Do they ever get tight?" whispered Roswell.
"A little lively,—that's all."
The effect predicted soon followed.
"Wilmot, give us a song," said Burgess.
"What will you have?" said Wilmot, whose flushed face showed that the punch had begun to affect him.