"What can it be?
Hearts! for Miss Letty—
Sweethearts and beaux,
Monarchs in rows,
Knaves on their knees—
Choose among these!
"Clubs now, I see!
Ace! for Miss Betty—
Clubman and swell,
Soldier as well.
Yes, he's all three;
Who can he be?
"Ione, be kind
To monarch and knave,
But make up your mind
To make 'em behave.
And when a man finds you
The nicest he's met, he
Is likely to marry you,
Letty and Betty!"
Tremendous cheering greeted these sentiments; three more cheers were proposed and given for the Canterbury.
"Home of the 'ster arts, m-music an' 'r' drama-r-r—" observed
Casson hazily—"I'm going home."
Nobody seemed to hear him.
"Home—ser-weet home," he repeated sentimentally—"home among the horses—where some Roman-nosed, camel-backed, slant-eared nag is probably waitin' to kick daylight out'r me! Ladies, farewell!" he added, tripping up on his spurs and waving his hand vaguely. "Cav'lry's eyes 'n' ears 'f army! 'Tain't the hind legs' No—no! I'm head 'n' ears—army! 'n' I wan' t' go home."
For a while he remained slanting against the piano, thoughtfully attempting to pry out the strings; then Wye returned from putting Miss Carew and Miss Trent into a carriage.
"You come to the fort with me," he said. "That'll sober you. I sleep near the magazine."
Berkley's face looked dreadfully battered and white, but he was master of himself, careful of his equilibrium, and very polite to everybody.