Mr. Burton drank the toast. "I hardly know what it's like now, Joe," he
said, slowly. "You wouldn't believe how soon you can lose the taste for
it."

Mr. Stiles said he would take his word for it. "You've got some nice
little public-houses about here, too," he remarked. "There's one I
passed called the Cock and Flowerpot; nice cosy little place it would be
to spend the evening in."

"I never go there," said Mr. Burton, hastily. "I--a friend o' mine here
doesn't approve o' public-'ouses."

"What's the matter with him?" inquired his friend, anxiously.

"It's--it's a 'er," said Mr. Burton, in some confusion.

Mr. Stiles threw himself back in his chair and eyed him with amazement.
Then, recovering his presence of mind, he reached out his hand for the
bottle.

"We'll drink her health," he said, in a deep voice. "What's her name?"

"Mrs. Dutton," was the reply.

Mr. Stiles, with one hand on his heart, toasted her feelingly; then,
filling up again, he drank to the "happy couple."

"She's very strict about drink," said Mr. Burton, eyeing these
proceedings with some severity.