"You are never anything but serious, are you?" said her friend. "If you have a fault, it is that, Dolly. You don't laugh enough."
Dolly was silent and swallowed her answer; for what did Christina know about it? She had not to watch over her father; her father watched over her. Presently she began again; her voice had a little strain in its tone.
"This is something for you and me to consider; for you and me, and other women who can do anything. Christina, did you ever think about the use of wine?"
"Wine?" echoed Miss Thayer, a good deal mystified. "The use of it? I don't know any use of it, except to give people, gentlemen, something to talk of at dinner. Oh, it is good in sickness, I suppose. What are you thinking of?"
"I am thinking of the harm it does," said Dolly in a low voice.
"Harm? What harm? You are not one of those absurd people I have heard of, who cut down their apple-trees for fear the apples will be made into cider?"
"I have no apple-trees to cut down," said Dolly. "But don't you know, Christina, that there is such a thing as drinking too much wine? and what comes of it?"
"Not among our sort of people," said Christina. "I know there are such things as drunkards; but they are in the lower classes, who drink whisky and gin. Not among gentlemen."
Dolly choked, and turned her face away to hide the eyes full of tears.
"Too much wine?" Christina repeated. "One may have too much of anything. Too much fire will burn up your house; yet fire is a good thing."