“You need talking to, Joe; and I’m going to do the talking. No! Sit right where you are and listen. You’ve got it coming to you; and, if you are the man I have always thought you, you’ll stand the gaff.”
“Aw, shucks! A drink or two isn’t going to kill Joe Hurley.”
“A drink or two kills his moral sense, and kills his usefulness as a good citizen,” returned Hunt. “Then, you have been gambling steadily.”
“Great saltpeter! isn’t a feller to have any fun at all? I haven’t lost much to Miguel.”
“It is your example to the rest. And what you have lost would help the fund for our church building. And we must have a church, Joe.”
Joe uttered something under his breath.
“What makes you so reckless, Joe?”
“Shucks, Willie! Maybe I have slipped a few cogs. A lone bachelor like me can’t help it sometimes, can he?” asked Hurley, with a smile that tried to be whimsical rather than bitter. “Remember, Willie, I haven’t got a sister to keep me well balanced. It’s womenfolks and—and an interest in one that makes a man a sobersides.”
“Is it!” returned Hunt, with scorn. “If a man hasn’t the stamina to stay straight, no girl will ever keep him in the narrow path—believe me!”
“You belittle Miss Betty’s powers of persuasion,” returned Joe, with a sly glance.