"A kiss for my Rosalie," roared Kennedy, tantalizing his host. Half-angry, Harry caught up a wine bottle from the tray and pointed it at his tormentor.
"Pop!" the cork flew out and Kennedy put his hand to his eye with an exclamation of pain.
"Hello! What have I done?" cried Harry.
"Didn't know it was loaded," jeered Idler. But the concert had stopped, and when Kennedy uncovered his eye there was a blue swelling already under the lid.
"A surgeon!" cried Sunburst. "Amputate his head. It is the only hope of saving the eye."
"What's good for a black eye?" asked Harry, less unfeelingly than the others.
"Black the other for symmetry," cried Sunburst.
"Get some beefsteak, Indigo," said Harry.
"Kill the Jersey cow, Indigo, and cut off a sirloin," mocked Idler, who was half-seas over now. Meanwhile the Scotchman and the Italian, counting their emoluments, had folded their instruments and silently stolen away; while Sunburst, apparently as porous as a sponge, calmly and steadily put the bottle Harry had popped to his lips and drained it to the dregs.