“And, ladies and gentlemen,” I said, “why should you hesitate? Have you not here—or had you not there, rather—in the very glass that my friend has just emptied, a drink as genial, as palatable and invigorating as the most debauched of you could desire?”
“We have, we have,” they cried.
“Then, ladies and gentlemen,” I said, “before we further address you on the evils of the drama, may I not beg of you to make up your minds to drink nothing less healthful than this in the future?”
“You may, you may,” they said.
I turned to Ezekiel.
“Then I’ll ask Mr. Stool,” I said, “to inaugurate our second appeal.”
I then stood aside while Ezekiel cleared his throat preparatory to delivering his usual oration, and it was during the course of this that Miss Moonbeam drew me aside and informed me how much she had appreciated my letter.
“I thought it was so dear of you,” she said, “to let your friend down without seeming to want to do anything of the kind.”
“It was certainly difficult,” I said.
“But you managed it so beautifully,” she said. “How long do you suppose he will go on speaking?”