the finest entertainment of the season."

"Hush!" I whispered, raising my finger. Then added, in a warning
tone--"Enjoy it in moderation, Albert."

His brows knit slightly. The crowd parted us, and we did not meet
again during the evening.

By twelve o'clock, most of the ladies had withdrawn from the
supper-room; but the enticement of wine held too many of the men
there--young and old. Bursts of coarse laughter, loud exclamations,
and snatches of song rang out from the company in strange confusion.
It was difficult to realize that the actors in this scene of revelry
were gentlemen, and gentlemen's sons, so called, and not the coarse
frequenters of a corner tavern.

Guests now began to withdraw quietly. It was about half-past twelve
when Mrs. Martindale came down from the dressing-room, with her
daughter, and joined Mr. Martindale in the hall, where he had been
waiting for them.

"Where is Albert?" I heard the mother ask.

"In the supper-room, I presume; I've looked for him in the parlors,"
Mr. Martindale answered.

"I will call him for you," I said, coming forward.

"Oh, do if you please," my friend replied. There was a husky tremor
in her voice.