"Bert," said Mr. Culpepper, uneasily, as his wife sat somewhat erect
"Bert, it's my birthday, and I don't grudge nothing to nobody; but go
easy with the beer. You ain't used to it, you know."

"What's the matter with the beer?" inquired Mr. Sharp. "It tastes all
right--what there is of it."

"It ain't the beer; it's you," explained Mr. Culpepper.

Mr. Sharp stared at him. "Have I said anything I oughtn't to?" he
inquired.

Mr. Culpepper shook his head, and, taking up a fork and spoon, began to
serve a plum-pudding that Miss Garland had just placed on the table.

"What was it you said I was to be sure and not tell Mrs. Culpepper?"
inquired Mr. Sharp, dreamily. "I haven't said that, have I?"

"No!" snapped the harassed Mr. Culpepper, laying down the fork and spoon
and regarding him ferociously. "I mean, there wasn't anything. I mean,
I didn't say so. You're raving."

"If I did say it, I'm sorry," persisted Mr. Sharp. "I can't say fairer
than that, can I?"

"You're all right," said Mr. Culpepper, trying, but in vain, to exchange
a waggish glance with his wife.

"I didn't say it?" inquired Mr. Sharp.