Smith’s stores of champagne and Madeira seemed to be inexhaustible, and when the clock struck one, some of the party, not excluding a few of the ladies, were in an exceedingly happy frame of mind. Then a dance was proposed, and Tom and Bertha were driven from the parlor. A gentleman played and called the changes. My good friend was actually scandalized by the orgies of the revellers. He never danced; he did not believe in it. Bertha appeared to sympathize with him, though this was not in accordance with her antecedents.
Wine was brought up to the parlor, and the dance went on, though some of my guests were slightly unsteady in their movements. I was shocked to see how wild Lilian was, and I mentally decided that no wine should ever be brought into my house again, for the occasion was now nothing but a revel. Some of the older of the party proposed to go home, and Tom joined them. Miss Bertha was attended to her house by him. When everybody was worn out, the party broke up, and all went away. Lilian dropped into her bed exhausted, and in a measure stupefied. As the hostess, she had been compelled to imbibe oftener than she desired, and really I was grieved to see her in this condition. After all was still, I went through the rooms to see that the windows were secure and the lights put out. I was shocked when I saw what damage had been done to the furniture. The carpets were stained with wine, ice cream and cake; the new piano was scratched and discolored, and the cloth greased. Besides the cost of this house-warming, whatever it might be, the damages could not be less than three hundred dollars.
At daylight I went to bed, sick at heart. I doubted whether the hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket would pay the bills, and I was miserable. I was in debt at least twenty-five hundred dollars. Lilian slept heavily after the night’s debauch. But I could not sleep. What if the bank should discover what I had done? What would the world say the next day, when the particulars of my party were known? for I was satisfied they could not be concealed.
At seven o’clock I got up, my head aching fearfully, for I had not wholly spared the champagne. I was positively miserable. I intended to visit Springhaven that day, and secure the loan from Aunt Rachel. It was not safe to let the matter stand any longer. I went to the bank, and with a throbbing brow attended to my duties. Tom looked very serious, but he did not say any thing to me. Probably he thought I was going to ruin rapidly, not because I had appropriated the funds of the bank, but because I furnished wine to my guests.
The news of my party had not yet been circulated, and I was spared any allusion to it. When I went home I found Lilian had not risen from her bed. She was quite sick. Biddy had done what she could to restore the house to its wonted order, but it was still in confusion. I could not go to Springhaven that day. By Monday morning Lilian was able to get up, and was herself again. She was even willing to acknowledge that such parties “do not pay.” I am sure I enjoyed our little Sunday evening gatherings, when Tom and Bertha sang sacred music, much better.
When I went to the bank on Monday, I found Smith’s bill enclosed in an envelope. I was afraid to open it at first, but when I did so my worst fears were more than confirmed. The total was three hundred and fifty dollars, of which two-thirds was for champagne, Madeira and sherry. I was appalled and terrified. It must be promptly paid, or Smith would be dunning me. I was short two hundred dollars.
I read the bill a second time, and I was absolutely in despair. My month’s salary, when paid, would not make up the deficiency; and I had all my house bills to provide for, which would take up the whole sum. I was running blindly before the wind to destruction. My extravagance would ruin me in a short time. But it was no use to cry. I was in the scrape, and I must get out of it.
My hopeful tendencies came to my aid. With careful economy I could soon pay my debts. A bright idea flashed through my excited brain. Would it not be just as easy to induce Aunt Rachel to lend me two thousand dollars as fifteen hundred? It was a brilliant thought, in my estimation. Five hundred dollars could make no difference to her, if the interest was punctually paid. It was a plain case. If the old lady did not promptly meet my views, I could frighten her into acquiescence. All right! The two thousand was sure enough.
I did not think I should be able to go to Springhaven before Saturday, and I did not care to receive a dunning visit from Smith. I might as well “be hung for an old sheep as a lamb.” I could borrow five hundred more from the bank, with no greater risk than I had already incurred—and I did so! My cash was then two thousand short; but before another week had passed, I should get the money from Aunt Rachel, and make good the deficit.