Now and then a burst of shrill laughter broke the quiet of the
surrounding forest. A man on the steps called a loud suggestive jest to
the pair in the boat, and the woman waved her handkerchief in answer.
The card-players argued and laughed over a point in their game. Some
one shouted into the house for Jim, and a negro man in white jacket
appeared. When the people on the veranda had expressed their individual
tastes, the one who had summoned the servant called to the woman in the
hammock under the tree, "What is yours, Martha?"

Without looking up from her book, the woman waved her hand, and
answered, "I am not drinking this time. Thanks."

A chorus of derisive shouts and laughter came from the veranda. But
the woman went on reading. "Oh, let her alone!" protested some one,
good-naturedly. "She was going a little strong, last night. She'll be
all right by and by, when she gets started again."

The negro, Jim, had returned with his loaded tray, and was passing among
the members of the company with his assortment of glasses, when some one
called attention to Harry Green, who was just pulling his boat up to the
landing after his visit to the little log house down the river.

A boisterous chorus greeted the boatman: "Hello, Harry! Did you find
anything? You're just in time. What'll you have?"

With a wave of greeting, the man fastened his boat to the landing, and
started up the slope.

"He'll have a Scotch, of course!" said some one. "Did anybody ever know
him to take anything else? Go and get it, Jim. He'll be nearly dead for