"That depends. Are cigars wicked?"
Elsie flashed a pair of keen eyes on him. "Are cigars good?"
He laughed good-naturedly. "Why, no; I haven't been in the habit of attaching any moral character to them whatever."
"Very well; then why do you pretend that I am talking about their moral character? The question is, do I believe that it is wrong to spend money for cigars, and to spoil one's breath, and poison the air that belongs to other people with their vile odors? In that case, I must be consistent with my belief, and not let my hands help along that which I consider mischievous."
"Pitch them into the gutter if you want to," he said, good-humoredly. "You see they are not mine; I promised to bring them up for Hal; so I can afford to be generous."
"Does Hal smoke?"
"Like a furnace. I won't tell him, though, that you helped the matter along. I'll appear to have carried the offending box every step of the way myself."
But Elsie did not smile. "If I were Emmeline," she began, then stopped.
"What then? Supposing I can stretch my credulity enough to imagine anything so preposterous."
"Never mind; perhaps I ought not to say it."