All this and his long abstinence seemed to call for a real
celebration. And Link looked forward with a thrill of merry
anticipation to the coming of night.

As soon as he could clear away his evening chores and swallow
some supper he fared forth to the village. This was going to be
one of those nights to date time from. Not a miserable half-jag,
stopped in mid-career by lack of funds and of credit--a
nipped-in-the-bud debauch, such as so often had sent him home
cranky and unsatisfied and railing against poverty. No, this was
going to be the real thing--a record performance, even for these
pre-prohibition times.

Ferris fed the collie and shut him into the kitchen, pending his
own return from Hampton. If Link were going to become blissfully
and helplessly drunk, as he had every hope of being, someone
might take advantage of his condition to steal his precious dog.
Therefore Chum was best left safe at home. This Link explained
very carefully to the interestedly listening collie. And Chum,
with head and brush a-droop, walked meekly into the kitchen at
his master's behest.

Link set off for the village, happy in the feeling that his home
was so well guarded and that he would find a loving friend
waiting to welcome him on his return. What with ready money and a
real friend and the prospect of getting whole-souledly drunk the
world was not such a rotten place to live in after all!

As a rule, on these occasions, Ferris first went to the Hampton